Every Good Riddle
by The Crackverse
Summary: ..ends in a Question Mark.    Edward Nigma, aka the Riddler, had all but renounced love after his previous love, Julie, betrayed him. Now, however, a spitfire woman named Janice who is bent on being his partner may change all of that.
1. A Riddle in Arkham

**A/N:** OK, so. I took another look at Every Good Riddle and absolutely despised it, so I decided to rewrite it. I actually have a plan and stuff now, so hopefully it'll be better this time around. I kept a lot of the scenes I liked, but also changed a lot of things and added some stuff. I hope you like it more this time around; I probably will.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

_A Riddle in Arkham_

The blood red sky sat over a quiet Gotham City. The only sound breaking the silence was the sound of sirens in the new industrial district as the police responded to a breaking-and-entering call. The Arkham Asylum van pulled up outside the same building, from which sounds of a struggle could be heard. Minutes later the Batman and his sidekick, Robin, appeared in the doorway, dragging a dazed, nearly unconscious Riddler.

"Good work." James Gordon strode up to the vigilante as the officers took Riddler and loaded him into the Arkham van.

"All in a days work, Commish." Robin replied with a grin. James Gordon smiled at him.

"Riddler was attempting to steal some highly technical—and valuable—parts." Batman explained. "Most likely for use in some sort of hacking system." Commissioner Gordon nodded.

"I'll make note of that in the report." he replied, turning towards the men strapping Riddler in to the van. "OK, boys, take 'im away." One of the guards nodded.

"Back to Arkham for this psycho."

* * *

><p>Janice Michaels stared out the window in the staff lounge at Arkham. It was dirty and run down, but usable, and more importantly, it had a coffee machine. It was her first day as a psychologist at Arkham, and she was feeling rather nervous. After all, she'd never been a psychologist before—she had a PHD, but she'd never actually been in the field.<p>

"Mrs. Michaels?"

The woman, with her dark brown hair, Mexican complexion, and emerald green eyes, looked up at the much older man standing above her. He was grizzled with age, his skin wrinkled and dry like paper, his hair almost completely fallen out with age. He smiled at her, many of his teeth missing.

"Ms. Michaels, and yes." she replied with a smile. He extended a shaking hand to her, the veins prominent against its back. She shook it.

"I'm Dr. Argus Tulley, the new head psychologist here at Arkham Asylum." he explained.

"Oh, you're the replacement for that Hugo Strange guy, right?" she asked. He nodded.

"Sort of a tragedy, really." he said. "Hugo Strange was a renowned and talented psychologist, and it saddens me that he was so easily pushed to madness. But that doesn't matter right now." he said. "It's your first day, correct?" he asked. She nodded.

"I'm a bit nervous, actually." she admitted. "You see, I've never actually _done_ this before—I just got my degree." He smiled another toothless smile and chuckled dryly.

"We've all been there before, my dear. You just have to have confidence in yourself." he replied. "And most importantly, learn from your mistakes. As a great man once said—"

"Hey, look! They're bringing in the Riddler!"

Everyone jumped out of their seats and ran to the window when the man exclaimed this. Outside, two orderly's were taking Riddler out of the van and bringing him into the building. The psychologist's all started murmuring to one another, as though worried about something. Tulley sighed.

"This may be a problem." he said, pinching the ridge of his nose, where small, round spectacles were perched. She looked at him inquisitively. "Riddler's last psychologist quit, and it's always hard to find new ones for him. He goes through almost as many as Joker." Janice smiled.

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to try my hand at it." she said. He looked at her in surprise. "I've always been intrigued by extreme personalities. It's why I became a psychologist. And you don't get much more extreme than one of Gotham City's most notorious super-villains."

"I suppose you don't." he said. He sighed. "Well, if you're _sure_ you want to...then I suppose I can let you try."

"Thank you, sir." she said. Tulley smiled at her again and then hobbled past her, heading to oversee Riddler's arrival. Several of the other psychologist's came up to her.

"If you're going to be working with Riddler, keep on your toes." said one, a tall, gangly man with wide rimmed glasses and a serious overbite problem. "And try and ignore all of his snappy comments. He doesn't like psychologist's very much."

"Thanks, but I think I'll be fine." Janice replied with a smile. "I'm used to dealing with a lot of people who don't like me." What she was reluctant to mention was that she had met all of them while working her 42 previous jobs, all of which she had been fired from because of her terrible temper. But she had worked long and hard to get her degree, she wasn't about to let a little thing like that get in her way of being a top-notch psychologist. The man looked at his colleagues and chuckled.

"Whatever you say, Ms. Whatever you say."

* * *

><p>Riddler groaned as light spilled into the room, burning the back of his eyelids a bloody red. He squeezed them shut tighter and put his pillow over his head, trying to block out the light.<p>

"Up 'n at 'em, Riddler." said one of the many orderly's assigned to him, holding open the door. "You've got a session with the psychologist." Riddler hissed.

"I don't _need_ a psychologist." he complained, burying his head deeper beneath the pillow. He heard the orderly sigh as he entered the room, using a spare block of wood to keep the door open.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but Tulley says you have to go." the orderly said. He came over to the bed and pulled back the covers, causing Riddler to shiver as the cold, damp air of Arkham Asylum found his pale skin. He groped around to grab them again, but the orderly pulled them off of the bed and deposited them on the ground beside it. He sat up to try and grab them again, but the orderly pulled him to his feet.

"There'll be time to sleep later." he said.

"I'd rather sleep _now_." he replied, blinking to clear the foggy film over his eyes. The orderly didn't even respond, instead just rolling his eyes. He put a hand on his shoulder and lead him out of the room, down the hallway and towards a wing he had never been to before. It was lined with small rooms, each containing a single table and two chairs. Only a few of them seemed to be occupied by psychologist's and inmates. The orderly brought him to one of the open rooms and sat him down at the chair facing the door. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and handcuffed him to the chair. Riddler looked at the chains inquisitively. "If I was really determined, do you honestly think _these_ little toys could stop me?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Again, it's just protocol." the orderly replied. "Now, just sit tight while I go get the psychologist." he said, turning on his heel and striding out of the room. Riddler leaned back in his chair, allowing it to balance precariously on two legs, and stared at the wall. Not five minutes later, a young woman entered the room. She looked to be about his age, with dark brown hair and emerald eyes, tanned skin and a crisp, clean lab coat draped over her curvaceous, athletic frame. She had a pen tucked over her ear and a notebook under her arm, and sat down across from him.

"Edward Nigma?"

He turned towards her, eyes drooping tiredly, eyebrows drawn together in an angry frown.

"Riddler." he corrected. She smiled at him, showing off identical rows of pearly teeth, as straight as rows of tombstones.

"Riddler it is, then." she replied. She opened her notebook, a flimsy spiral thing like one would expect to see an elementary school student carrying, and wrote something at the top of the first page. He snorted in disdain as he turned away again, directing his attention back to the brick wall. A newbie. How insulting. "So, did you sleep well?" she asked. His only reply was another snort, one of laughter this time. How could anyone sleep well in a place like this? She watched him expectantly, waiting for an answer, but he merely curled his free hand into a fist, rested his elbow on the armrest, and rested his chin on his fist, still staring at the wall. With the hand attached to the chair, he drummed gently on the armrest.

When she woman realized her small-talk tactic wasn't working, she slid down slightly in her chair, relaxing her confident, official pose.

"I'm Janice Michaels." she said. "Dr. Tulley assigned me to be your new psychologist. I—"

"Are you supposed to be some sort of _joke_?" he asked, sighing in exasperation. She looked at him in confusion. "Because you're clearly not a psychologist."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman's hand curl into a fist around the edge of the table, he knuckles turning white. Her mouth was closed, but he could tell her jaw was clenched in anger. He managed to avoid smirking smugly. It wouldn't be long before she lost her temper, possibly even quit. She clearly wasn't suited for a job at Arkham is she wasn't able to control herself.

"Well, I guess you're kind of right. After all, this _is_ my first day." she replied. He turned his head and rested his cheek against his fist so he was facing her.

"That's fairly obvious." he replied. Her fist clenched even tighter, and he could tell that her finely manicured nails were leaving indents in the wooden table. He briefly considered telling her that she'd get splinters doing that but decided against it. She smiled at him, but it was clearly forced.

"So, Riddler, why don't you tell me more about yourself? How did you end up here?" she asked. He turned back towards the wall.

"I'm sure you watch the news. Go and find out for yourself." he replied. Her stiff smile became a frown, and she closed her eyes. He watched her mouth the numbers one through ten, clearly trying to keep her temper under control.

"Well, what I _meant_ was, how did you become a villain?" she asked through clenched teeth. He stopped drumming on the armrest, and his hand clenched into a fist. His teeth came together with a sharp click as he closed his mouth. After a minute or so, Janice cleared her throat. "Well, I, uh, guess that must be really hard to talk about, so, um—"

"Not really. I just don't think you deserve an answer." He cut her off, relaxing his fist. Janice clenched her own with a growl.

"And why is that?" she asked, raising her voice. He covered his mouth with his fist to hide his grin of triumph.

"You haven't done anything to prove to me that you do." he replied. The chair was pushed back with a sickening screech as she stood and leaned across the table, glaring at him. He met her glare with his own cold stare. "You know, we could sit here having a staring contest all day, or you could admit that we're not getting anywhere and we can actually get something _done_ today."

With a yell of anger, Janice jumped out of her chair, grabbed her notebook, and turned on her heel, storming out of the room. Riddler didn't bother hiding his smug grin as the orderly entered the room, holding a key.

"Geeze, she left here in a hurry. What did you _say_ to her, anyways?" he asked, unlocking the handcuffs. Riddler rotated his sore wrist as he stood.

"Nothing at all, really." he replied. "I was just myself." The orderly sighed.

"Well then, back to your room, Riddler." he said. Riddler closed his eyes and frowned.

Oh well. It was better than this psychologist nonsense.

* * *

><p>Janice stormed through the halls, snarling and growling like a demon straight out of Hell. Her session with Riddler had been a complete disaster. She could easily see <em>why<em> so many psychologist's had been driven to quit by the villainous maniac. He was a truly infuriating man.

Completely blinded by anger, she bumped right into Dr. Tulley, causing him to drop the many books he was carrying.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't paying attention." she apologized, helping him to pick up the books.

"It's no problem, my dear. It happens to the best of us." he replied, taking the stack of books as she stood and handed them to him. "How was your first session with Riddler?" In reply, Janice hissed. "That well, huh?"

"He makes me _so mad_." she replied, leaning against the wall, gently repeatedly hitting her head against the bricks. "He has no manners, no respect, and he's just—just—augh!" She cried out in frustration and suddenly clenched her fists, accidentally breaking the pen in her grasp. She gasped as small slivers of plastic were embedded in her palm, and started picking them out, leaving tiny red pin-pricks where she pulled them from. Tulley frowned.

"I see. Well, it's no surprise." he said with a sigh. "All of the psychologist's who try and treat Riddler encounter the same problem. They end up either quitting or asking to be assigned to a new case." She snorted.

"I can see why." she said, growling.

"You know, if you want to be assigned to a new case, I'll understand." Tulley said. "After all, you _are_ knew to this business." Janice laughed.

"And give that psychopath the satisfaction of having run me off? I don't think so." she replied. "And besides, I don't like to leave things unfinished. I'll just have to put up with his obnoxiousness." The look on his face was both one of relief and worry.

"Well, if you're sure...but if it gets to be too much, don't hesitate to tell me." he said. "I would hate to have to see such a bright young woman quit because of a maniac like Riddler." She turned to him and smiled.

"Don't worry about me, Dr. Tulley. I've always been good with handling myself in that regard." she lied. Honestly, she'd never been very good at handling herself.

But Tulley didn't need to know that.

* * *

><p>Riddler hissed as the blankets were pulled off of him, and made to strike whoever was there, but was met with the sight of his usual orderly.<p>

"Morning, Riddler." he said, with a smile too bright and cheery for whatever ungodly hour of the morning it happened to be. "Time to get up. You've got a psychology session, bright and early as usual." Riddler looked at him in confusion. How could that be? Hadn't he chased the woman, Janice Michaels, away?

He got his answer when the orderly brought him down the same hallway and into one of the rooms, and sitting in the chair closest to the door, was Janice. She looked up at him as the orderly brought him around and once again handcuffed him to the chair.

"Good morning, Riddler." she said, sounding annoying bubbly and perky. He cursed at how the entire world seemed to be more of a morning person than him. "Are you in a better mood today?" she asked as the orderly left the room.

"It depends on what you mean by a better mood." he replied groggily, leaning back in his chair and squeezing his eyes shut against the blinding fluorescent lights.

"Well, are you going to bite my head off today?" she asked. He tilted his head up and narrowed his eyes angrily at her.

"Are you going to be as idiotic as you were yesterday?" he asked in turn. Her anger was only apparent for a moment before her smile returned, forced and contrived, but still a smile.

"Well, we'll just see. Anyways, let's get right to it today." she said, pulling out her notebook and what he noticed was a different pen. He also happened to notice the red dots on her palm, remnants of small, pin-prick-like injuries. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Hurt yourself, did you?" he noted. She looked up at him.

"Hm?" She looked down at her hand. "Oh. That. It's nothing. Had an accident with my pen." she explained. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, that's _smart_ of you." he said. She looked back at him and glowered. He grinned smugly. "Now now, don't lose your temper, _Dr._ Michaels." With an angry sigh, she opened her notebook, pulled the cap off of the pen, and wrote something beneath her notes from the day before. Riddler tried to see what she was writing, but her handwriting was too small for him to read from across the table. "What could you _possibly_ have to write about so early in the session?" he asked. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in a skeptical manner.

"I don't think you _deserve_ an answer." she replied sarcastically. He snarled at having his own comment turned on him. "And for your information, I have a lot to write about. After all, I'm supposed to be analyzing our conversations for use in treating your unstable mentality." He rolled his eyes.

"My mind is as well as yours." he replied. She chuckled.

"Yes, of course, Riddler. That's why you go around trying to conquer the city and putting millions of lives in danger." she said mockingly.

"Everyone tries to conquer the city. Some just have more dramatic ways of doing it." he said, staring off into space once again. She looked at him oddly.

"Believe what you want." she said, writing something else in her book. "Anyways, let's cut the crap and get to the question segment. Are you feeling any more cooperative today?" she asked, locking her fingers, placing her elbows firmly on the table, and leaning on her hands.

"Not particularly." he replied, leaning further back in his seat. "But I guess it depends on what you're asking. Will you just be asking me more menial questions about myself?" he asked. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"They aren't _menial_, they're very integral to figuring out how to help you." she said. It was Riddler's turn to narrow his eyes.

"I don't _need_ help." he replied. "Not any help that _you_ could give me, anyways." He turned away from her again, once again staring at the wall. She gritted her teeth in anger and squeezed her pen tightly, though stopped when she irritated the little pinpricks on her hand.

"Look, just answer the questions and make things easier for both of us, OK?" she asked, setting the pen down on the table and scratching the irritated injuries.

"How will it make things any easier for _me_?" he asked, sighing. "I'll still be stuck in here. Why should I help _you_?" She narrowed her eyes at him again.

"Do you have any compassion at _all_?" she asked. He snorted.

"Asking a man labeled a homicidal maniac if he has any compassion. That's a new one on me." he said. She growled at him.

"You're a bastard, do you know that?" she asked with a snarl. He chuckled.

"I've been called worse, Dr. Michaels. But is that really a nice thing to be saying to your patient?" he asked sarcastically. The chair made another high pitched squealing noise as she jumped out of it again, once again grabbing her notebook. As she turned towards the door she looked back at him.

"I can't tell if you're a maniac or not, but you're definitely an asshole." she spat, slamming the door behind her. Seconds later the orderly came in and unlocked his handcuffs, helping him to his feet.

"You really should stop doing that." he said. "One of these days she's just going to deck you." Riddler snorted.

"She doesn't have the guts."

* * *

><p>Janice threw herself into one of the chairs in the staff lounge. She grabbed her purse and opened it, fishing for her handy bottle of headache medicine. She took two out of the bottle and swallowed them dry, ignoring the lump in her throat that followed. Why had she volunteered to be Riddler's psychologist? And more importantly, why had she decided to <em>stay<em> his psychologist? Everything about him was so _infuriating_. His smug attitude, his complete lack of respect, just..._everything_.

But she was definitely making progress. She had managed to stay with him for a lot longer today, and she hadn't lost her temper nearly as quickly. It seemed that being Riddler's psychologist was something that one grew accustomed to over time, and she was fairly sure that she would be able to crack the surly exterior and find out what _really_ made him tick, so long as she was careful to control herself. After all, she didn't want a repeat of the many incidents that had happened before. She liked working at Arkham.

She wasn't going to let her explosive, violent personality get in the way of that.

* * *

><p>Sessions continued for about a week.<p>

Janice slowly grew more and more accustomed to working with Riddler, learning to take all of his snarky comments and backhanded insults in stride. He was bitchy, she learned, and it was best just to accept that and move on, because it clearly wasn't going to change any time soon. Sometimes he even answered her questions, though it seemed to be more out of exasperation than any real growing trust. She started truly enjoying treating Riddler, even if it infuriated her a lot.

Riddler, on the other hand, wasn't quite as content. Over the 9 day period that he knew her, Janice Michaels had become more and more of a thorn in his side. He didn't _want_ or _need _the help she was trying to force on him, and it made him all the more angry that she never seemed to get that message. She would always be sitting there waiting for him, smiling warmly, with her little notebook and little pen, waiting to jot down every mannerism. Not only was it annoying, but it made him feel like a rat in a maze.

One day, as she sat there, prim and prissy, mumbling (mostly) to herself and writing down every time he so much as twitched, he finally got fed up.

"Do you even realize how abysmally _annoying_ you are?" he asked, pinching the ridge of his nose. She looked up from her notes suddenly, his insult not yet registering. "All you do is sit there all day and study me like I'm some sort of _experiment_, and then you have the nerve to call me _inhuman_. No, not only is is annoying, it's hypocritical, and there isn't a sole on this Earth who likes a hypocrite." he said.

Before he even realized what was happening, Janice jumped out of her chair, and punched him in the face.

He cried out and he and the chair were both sent to the floor, still attached by wrist and armrest. He saw stars in front of his eyes, and it took a moment for them to disappear, at which point the pain sank in, and he reached up and tenderly felt his nose, which he was certain was now broken. He tasted blood as it streamed from his nose and into his mouth, and he reached up and pressed against the bottom of his nose, ignoring the pain in order to stop the flow of blood. He could hear Janice screaming at him, and then heard the sound of the orderly bursting into the room and yelling at her, presumably when he saw his dazed form on the floor. More orderlies came into the room and her voice slowly drifted away as she seemed to be dragged off. The other orderly came over to him and undid his handcuffs.

"You okay?" he asked. Riddler didn't reply, knowing that anything he said at the moment would probably be heard as a nasal mess. The orderly pressed a tissue to his nose lightly, trying not to hurt him. He then pulled his arm around his shoulders and helped him to his feet, instructing him to keep the tissue to his nose. "Don't worry, I'll get you to the medical wing and they'll get you all fixed up." he promised. Riddler merely nodded in reply.

* * *

><p>Janice lingered hesitantly at the door to Dr. Tulley's office. She raised a fist to knock, but dropped her hand unsurely. She wasn't entire sure that she <em>wanted<em> to hear what Tulley had to say. After all, he hadn't sounded incredibly pleased when he had called her on her cell phone, presumably after hearing about the event with Riddler. She was about to turn and walk away when a stiff, official sounding 'come in' came from the office. With a groan she opened the door and stepped inside.

"Uh...hello, sir." she said meekly. Tulley was seated at his desk, sitting up straighter than he'd ever seen him sit, and looking very, very angry. He motioned for her to sit in the seat in front of his desk. Shyly, she shuffled forwards, and sat in the chair.

"I heard about what happened this morning." he said, sounding very displeased. She gulped and smiled unsurely.

"Um...about that, sir..."

"Save it, Ms. Michaels." he said, pinching the ridge of his nose. "Whatever you're going to say, I _don't_ want to hear it. No matter _what_ Riddler said or did, you had absolutely _no_ right to inflict _any_ sort of injury on him. That is why I didn't want you to continue working with Riddler. I _knew_ something like this would happen."

"And I am truly sorry for it, sir. I'll keep my temper under control from now on." she said. He glared at her.

"_From now on_? Janice, I like you. You're a very intelligent young woman and you're clearly very dedicated. But after what happened today, I simply _cannot_ allow you to continue working here." he said. "If this were ever to reach the press, it would be disastrous. I'm afraid I'm going to have to fire you."

The reaction was instantaneous.

Janice leaped out of her chair with a screech, slamming on the desk so hard that it caused things to fall off of it.

"You can't _do_ this to me!" she screamed, purposely knocking things off of the desk. "I _need_ this job! How else will I be able to pay the rent?" she yelled.

"You are _completely_ out of order here, Ms. Michaels!" Tulley yelled, standing. "Somebody get this woman out of here!" An orderly burst into the room and grabbed Janice from behind. "Anything left in this building that belongs to you will be sent to your apartment, Ms. Michaels, so don't feel obligated to return." Tulley said, picking things up off of the floor. Janice hissed as the man dragged her out of the room.

Minutes later, the orderly tossed her outside. It was starting to rain.

"Have a good night, Ms. Michaels." the orderly said, closing the doors on her.

She yelled at the building, constructing as many creative curses as she could possibly think of, before running off.

* * *

><p>When she got back to her apartment building, Janice ran up the stairs, too angry and impatient to wait for the elevator, screaming as she went. She burst into her apartment, kicking in the door and shattering the lock, not even bothering to dig for her key. She slammed her table, reducing it to splinters. She then ran into her bedroom and practically ripped off her lab coat.<p>

Throwing open her dresser, she dug through her clothing, and pulled out a green tank top and a pair of black jeans. She pulled them on and stormed over to her floor-length mirror to examine herself.

Her hair was messy, completely forgotten in her rage, and her face was contorted in a horrible scowl.

"There's no way I'm just letting this go." she hissed. "Arkham Asylum hasn't seen the last of me. If Riddler can do it, so can I." She looked at the green and black outfit. "Question Mark. That's what I'll call myself. And Tulley will regret ever even _considering_ firing me."


	2. Question Mark?

**A/N: **Welcome back to the rewrite of Every Good Riddle. Yes, that chapter was ridiculously long. They may all be like that, they may not, depending on how I divide up the events. Really, the only point of this story is to surpass the quality of the last one, which I think it's already done. There was a lot of OOCness in the original version, but I like some of the events and details, so they will be making a reappearance in this version. I can definitely say that the story is going to be longer this time around, maybe not in terms of chapters, but rather in terms of actual _length_. Anyways, enough of my rambling, on to the story.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_Question Mark_

That night was unseasonably cold for a Gotham autumn. Normally they would be starting to drop into the 15's at this point, but the weather was already cold enough for winter jackets. And in Arkham Asylum, this was doubly true, because of the draftiness of the building. The night shift orderlies spent most of their shift wandering around shivering, trying not to freeze to death. So they didn't even notice the young woman, with a crisp white lab draped over her curvaceous, athletic body, striding surely through the halls.

It wasn't until she reached the personal effects room that she pulled the coat off and threw it carelessly onto the floor, entering the unlocked room. The dim fluorescent lights flickered overhead, illuminating the long silver tables lining the middle of the room, with both walls covered in shelves full of boxes labeled with the names of the patients, both former and current, housed in the asylum. She strode purposefully towards the back of the room, where she found a large box marked with a giant black question mark. She opened the box and found inside, along with Riddler's infamous jumpsuit, a golden staff and a green mask that hid ones eyes when they wore it. She pulled them out and put the mask on, blinking a few times so her eyes could adjust to the sudden vision change. She then held the staff up to the light and grinned. It was just what she needed to complete her 'Question Mark' persona. And Riddler wouldn't be needing it, not when he was locked up in here.

Suddenly, there were footsteps. She hissed under her breath and dove underneath one of the tables as two orderlies came into the room.

"You're sure you heard someone come in here?" she heard one ask.

"Yeah, man." said the other. She saw two pairs of boots stop in front of the table she was hidden under. "Besides, how else would this coat have gotten here?"

"I dunno. One of the doctors could have left it here before they left today." he said. "I don't see anyone. Maybe you were just imagining things." The other one sighed.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. Tch. I wish these guys would clean up after themselves." he replied, clearly noticing the open box. Janice heard a shuffling noise as the man put the lid back on the box and slid it back into place. "Think they're too high and mighty to clean up after themselves, just 'cause they make more money."

"Yeah, well, every job's gotta have its downsides. Crazies and snobs are ours. Anyways, we'd better get outta here. This place at night gives me the creeps." Janice held in a sigh of relief until she heard the click of the door closing. Getting caught was the last thing on her agenda, especially when she had so many other things to do before she left Arkham. She slipped silently out of the room, checking to make sure the orderlies weren't out there before running towards the rarely used stairwell.

It was time to teach Tulley a lesson about messing with Janice Michaels.

* * *

><p>Janice took a step back and admired her handy work. It would definitely send a message to the old coot; it would take a long time and a lot of taxpayer's dollars to fix. Maybe next time he wouldn't be so quick to fire someone.<p>

Of course, she had been worried about being suspected of the crime, but her new persona and the..._redecorating_ she did would surely put all blame off of her. Because now everyone knew that she hated Riddler, so there would be no reason for her to run around imitating him.

She had to admit though, it was _fun_. She could see why Riddler did this for a living. The destruction and chaos was a good way for her to express all of the pent-up anger she had built up over time, and no one would have any idea that it was her.

With one final smirk, she slipped out of the office and headed for the exit. She had caused enough trouble for one night.

But it definitely wasn't going to be the _last_ time that Question Mark reared her ugly head.

* * *

><p>The orderlies and Argus Tulley stared at the room in shock.<p>

All of the windows were broken. The bookshelves were all tipped over, the books strewn across the floor, pages torn out and lying around the room like new-fallen snow. The mahogany desk was smashed into splinters, all of its contents destroyed beyond any hope of recognition. In the corner, the destroyed computer had started a small fire, destroying all of the case files in his filing cabinet.

And giant green question marks were spray-painted _everywhere_. They covered the walls, floor, and ceiling.

Their first conclusion had been, of course, that Riddler was the one responsible for the vandalism.

"Do we have any video's of him escaping?" Tulley asked, hobbling into the video surveillance office. The man sitting at the desk looked up at him.

"Good morning, sir. I heard about what happened to your office. A real shame, that. Do you have any idea who did it?" he asked.

"I have my suspicions." Tulley replied. "Is there any evidence that Riddler left his cell at any point during the night?" he asked. The man rolled his chair over to the console at the far left of the room and punched something in.

"No sir." he replied. "Riddler's been in his cell all night, except for when he was in the medical ward. The nurse has been in and out all night, checking on him."

"Is there any way he could have tampered wit the camera to make it _seem_ like he was there all night?" he asked. The man shrugged.

"I _guess_ it's possible, but I don't see when he could have. He's been under pretty constant surveillance since he was brought in." he replied. Tulley narrowed his eyes.

"If it's not Riddler, then it must be someone imitating him. A copycat of sorts." he decided. "Do any of the camera's have any evidence of a break-in, or an unusual character in the building?" he asked. The man punched in another code.

"Huh." he said. "That's weird. A bunch of camera's went off-line at about midnight, all of them in the hallways and storage rooms." he said. Tulley growled. Behind him, he heard two orderlies arguing.

"_See_? I _told_ you I heard someone!" one hissed. He turned towards them.

"You heard someone in the building?" he asked. The two orderlies looked at him and gulped nervously.

"Ah—w-well, yes, sir, in the personal effects room." said the one who hadn't yet spoken. "But we looked, an' there wasn't anyone there. Just an open box."

"The box for which patient?" It was a pointless question. He already knew the answer.

"Riddler's, sir." one said.

"And was anything missing?" he asked. They looked at each other. One shrugged.

"I dunno. I just closed it up, I didn't really look..." he said, his voice fading as Tulley's expression grew angrier and angrier. The elderly man massaged his temple.

"So you didn't follow procedure, is that what you're saying?" he asked.

"W-wait, Dr. Tulley..." said the other. "_I_ saw what was in the box. His staff and mask were both missing. I figured the police had taken them or somethin', but I guess the copycat could've taken them." he said. Tulley nodded.

"Very good. I'll fill out a report about it later. Right now, we need to alert the police about this menace." he said. "Someone get Commissioner Gordon on the line. The rest of you, back to work. And keep quiet about this. We don't want the inmates to know about this act of vandalism. They might start getting ideas." The orderlies nodded and rushed out of the room, headed towards their respective locations.

Tulley sighed. This was going to be a _long_ week.

* * *

><p>Tulley had good intentions telling the orderlies not to tell the inmates about the incident, but it was for naught. News traveled faster than commands in Arkham Asylum, and orderlies and inmates often got to chatting. So, by that afternoon, when the inmates were given their alloted free time, everyone was talking about it.<p>

Riddler was one of the few who hadn't yet heard of what had happened, due to being in the medical wing all day, having his nose tended to. The break had been clean, so at the very least it was healing relatively quick and painlessly, but the nurses had still insisted on bandaging it. He hoped they all died a gruesome, painful death.

He sighed and entered the large communal room, shared by the maybe 10 or 20 inmates in his wing at any point in time. Today happened to be chess day, his favorite day of the week. He scoured for an open table, and found one with only one man sitting at it. He went over and sat across from him.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Riddler." the man said, toggling a chess piece. "How does it feel to have a following?" he asked. Riddler looked up at him questioningly as he set up the chess pieces.

"Hm? What do you mean?" he asked. The other man, playing the white pieces, moved a pawn.

"Oh, so you haven't heard about what happened to Dr. Tulley's office?" he asked. Riddler shook his head. "Someone with a love for your style broke into Tulley's office and completely wrecked it. There are green question marks everywhere, from what I've heard." he said.

Riddler jerked his head up in surprise.

"A copycat?" he asked.

"It seems so." the other man replied.

Riddler narrowed his eyes. How _dare_ someone try to steal his thunder? He wasn't about to let someone get away with it. The only problem was that he was stuck in here.

Not that it had ever been a problem before.

"And apparently, they have it out for Tulley." the other man continued, staring at Riddler, seemingly waiting for him to make a move. Riddler moved a pawn in response. "You don't see many crimes like that that aren't personal."

It didn't take Riddler long to figure out who was responsible for the vandalism, and who was copying him. Someone who had a grudge against Tulley, who would benefit from people believing that they were a copycat, and who knew Arkham well enough to be able to slip through the building unnoticed.

_You'll regret doing that, Ms. Michaels._ He thought. _You have no idea just how _vengeful_ I can be_.

"Are you going to make another move?"

* * *

><p>Nights in Gotham City were quiet, especially since the appearance of the many deranged criminals started driving people indoors as soon as the sun set. The sky, stained blood red from the many experimental chemical fumes being pumped into the air, and holding a plump, full moon. It gave the night an eerie and foreboding feeling.<p>

Janice Michaels didn't care about any of that. What she cared about was that tonight was Question Mark's time to shine. A few hours previous there had been an armored car delivery to the nearby bank, and since no other super villain had decided to steal the hundreds of thousands of dollars just sitting there in the vault, ripe for the taking, she decided that Gotham would get a kick out of her Riddler-esque antics for a second time.

After slipping into her acid green tank top and fitting black jeans, as well as plastering Riddler's mask to her face and grabbing his golden staff, she ran off into the night, to the bank. The building was dark and loomed over the tiny ma-and-pa stores situated around it, but she didn't find it the least bit intimidating. After all, she'd worked there for a few weeks. It was all show, and had a very weak security system, as the city poured all of its money into the more central banks and other locations.

She had learned the ins and outs of Riddler's gadgets, and had found that the staff had a lock-picking mechanism in the end of it. She stuck it into the keyhole and, sure enough, there was a tell-tale _click_ a few seconds later. She smirked in triumph and walked leisurely into the inky darkness of the building. The vault would be slightly tougher, she knew, but it didn't worry her. She had all night.

Of course, her plans were significantly derailed by Riddler sitting on the front desk, seemingly waiting for her. He grinned at her as she glared at him.

"What're _you_ doing here?" she hissed.

"Waiting for _you_, of course." he answered. He slid off of the desk and strode towards her. In defense, she raised the staff, but he stopped a good 7 feet away. "You have some things that belong to me, and I want them back." he said menacingly, holding out his hand, as though waiting for her to give them to him. She chuckled.

"You think I'll just _give_ them back to you? After all the trouble I went through to steal them in the first place, I don't _think_ so." she sneered. This time, it was his turn to chuckle.

"Oh, I think you will." he said, taking a few more steps towards her. "Now, I don't want to hurt you, so just be a good little girl and give me back my staff and mask."

In response, she ran at him.

She swung the staff, hoping that it would connect with a crack, signaling the breaking of his bones, but he feinted backwards, causing her to miss. She swung again, but this time he caught it with both hands, and twisted it out of her grip. Before she could react, he swung the staff, catching her in the lower jaw with the bottom of the staff. With a cry she was sent sprawling, and before she could get up, he pinned her to the ground by pressing the staff against her neck, making it so that she could breath, but was still uncomfortable. He grinned at her.

"You were saying?" he said smugly. She glared at him. "I don't normally help the police force, but I think I'll make an exception for you, and leave you tied up somewhere for them to find."

"W...wait..." she gasped. "I can...I can help you." He looked at her, inquisitive but skeptical, and raised the staff a bit so that she could speak better.

"Oh? How so?" he asked, mockingly.

"I can give you a place to stay...one that the police don't know about. All you have to do is let me join you." she said. He chuckled.

"I have plenty of places like that, Ms. Michaels. Like in Arkham, I'm afraid I don't _need_ your help." he said. She hissed at him.

"Then I'll alert the police to your escape. They'll find you in no time, and my identity will be safe. After all, who would believe _you_?" she asked. He chuckled again.

"By the time you could alert the authorities, I would be in hiding, somewhere they would never find me." he said. It was her turn to chuckle now.

"But you're wrong there. I _know_ the locations of all of your hideouts. They're all encoded on a microchip in your staff, and it was only too easy for me to decode." she said. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're bluffing. There isn't any possible way you could have decoded that chip. I encrypted it myself." he said.

"I'm not. You have a warehouse in the southern industrial district, one that's supposedly being used by one of the chemical factories in the city. You also have an apartment building that's supposedly slated to be wrecked by a company that doesn't exist except on paper." she said. He growled.

"How could you have _possibly_ gotten past my encoding?" he asked, sounding quite miffed. She smirked at him.

"It wasn't that tough, really. Anyone with decent hacker knowledge could do it." He growled at her, and removed the staff from her throat, standing. She stood and dusted herself off. He narrowed his eyes. "So, what do you say? Partners?" She extended a hand towards him. Reluctantly, he shook it.

"Partners." he hissed. "But only as long as you keep my hideout's a secret to the police. And I'm taking you up on your offer of a place to stay." She smirked at him.

"Question Mark and Riddler. I like the sound of it." she said. He looked at her oddly.

"Question Mark? What sort of a name is 'Question Mark'?" he asked. She glared at him. "No originality whatsoever."

"Tch. What do _you_ know about originality, anyways?" she asked with a sneer.

"More than you." he said. "And give me back my mask." She rolled her eyes as she peeled off the mask and handed it to him. He put it on. "Now, let's go."

"What about the money?" she asked.

"The money isn't important." he replied. "There are more important things to be doing. Like you taking me to this supposed 'place to stay'." He began walking towards the door.

"Dictator much?" she said, but followed anyways.

"You're the one who wanted to be my partner, and so long as that partnership continues, you'll have to listen to me." he said. She growled. "You can terminate it at any time, you know."

"And give up being Question Mark? I don't think so." she said.

"Then let's go." he said.

She pouted, but didn't complain as she lead Riddler out of the bank and towards her apartment building.

* * *

><p>Sneaking past the receptionist was easy. At this time of night, they were always asleep at their desk, and so long as one didn't make too much noise, they stayed that way. Getting up to the second floor was more difficult because of the guard patrolling the stairs and the man operating the elevator, but they somehow managed that as well, and soon arrived at Janice's apartment.<p>

She pulled her key out of her jeans pocket and slipped it into the lock, then opened the door and stepped inside, switching on the lights.

"Home sweet home." she said, tucking the key back into her pocket. She wandered over to the kitchen and pulled a cup of yogurt out of her fridge, and took a spoon from her drawer. Riddler entered behind her and wandered over to the couch, sitting down.

"Sufficient, I suppose." he said. "But sort of ugly."

Janice whirled around and glared at him.

"What did you say?" she hissed.

"I said your apartment is ugly." he replied. She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, and I suppose _you_ could do better?" she asked. He grinned at her.

"Easily." he replied. "It wouldn't be difficult to make _this_ wreck of an apartment look better." She threw her spoon at him, but he moved out of the way, so it bounced off of the back of the couch and landed uselessly on the cushion. He picked it up and twirled it. "You really shouldn't do that, you know. If you always let your temper get the better of you, it's going to get you caught."

"Don't push your luck." she said. "I'm letting you stay here, after all."

"Only because you're desperate to be my partner." he reminded her, tossing the spoon onto the coffee table in front of him.

"I would have been just as content to fly solo, but noooo, you had to get all uppity about me using your trademarks." she replied. He glared at her.

"I've worked hard to build up my reputation. I'm not about to let you take what credit I've earned." he said. "Not unless it benefits _me_." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." she said, waving it off. She walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the spoon, but dropped it when the ringing of her cell phone startled her. She quickly pulled it out of her pocket and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Is this Janice Michaels?" someone asked.

"Yes. Who is this?" she asked.

"I'm Jonathan Baker, the principal at Madison High School. We're searching for a substitute to take over for Mr. Reese, the Current Events teacher, while he's away for his chemotherapy, and your name came up." he said. "I was hoping that you could take over for him for a while." Janice turned to look at Riddler, then turned away.

"I'm not entirely sure, Mr. Baker. You see, I have a prior commitment..." she said, trailing off.

"We'd be happy to pay you Mr. Reese's full rate." he replied.

"When would you like me to start?" she asked. He chuckled.

"I felt that would get a better answer." he said. "Would tomorrow be okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure." she said.

"Then I'll see you at 7:00 tomorrow morning." he said. "We'll discus your payment and other things then."

"Kay, bye." she said.

"Bye, Ms. Michaels." And with that, he hung up. Janice hit the 'end' button on her phone and closed it, tucking it back into her pocket. Riddler looked at her inquisitively.

"You should try and get your priorities straight, _Ms. Michaels_." he said. "Weren't you quite set on being Question Mark? And now you've taken a job as a substitute teacher?" She turned and glared at him.

"It's possible to do both, you know." she said. He chuckled.

"Yes, but don't you think your teaching will distract you from your job as my 'partner'?" he asked.

"Are you saying I'm not capable of focusing on both?" she asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." he replied. She grabbed the dropped spoon and threw it at him again, but this time, he managed to catch it. "You really should stop doing that, you know. You saw where your anger got you last time." With a shriek of anger, Janice turned on her heel, and stormed off to her bedroom. She slammed the door loudly and he heard the _click_ of a lock being turned.

With a sigh, he began twirling the spoon again, and soon zoned out, becoming lost in thought. Was allowing Janice Michaels to join him as Question Mark really such a good idea? She seemed like a loose cannon, one who could get him caught if she didn't learn to control herself.

Oh well. At the very least, she would be a good distraction for the police, or even Batman, if ever he needed one.

With that thought, he laid down on the couch, and quickly fell asleep.


	3. Partners

**A/N**: Warning! There will eventually be romance. This is basically a warning to everyone who doesn't like pairings with OC's. Why am I saying this now? Because I can. And because I sort of forgot to the last two chapters.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_Partners_

His awakening the next morning was not a favorable one. The bright lights, switched on without any warning, seared the back of his eyelids a violent red. He opened his eyes just a sliver and quickly closed them against the bright lights overhead. Turning over, he buried his face in the back of the couch, trying desperately, and in vain, to fall asleep again. After a minute or so, he realized that wasn't going to happen, and turned over again, sitting up groggily. The clock on the oven cheerfully proclaimed that it was 5:04 AM and he cheerfully cursed the world and everything and everyone in it. 5 AM was not the time of morning that he wanted to wake at.

Standing in the kitchen, humming cheerfully to herself, was Janice. She was wearing a white button-down blouse and a denim skirt, along with black, 5-inch heels that couldn't possibly be comfortable, but that she seemed fine in. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower. She was standing at the stove, an open carton of eggs beside her. There was a slightly burnt smell hanging in the air.

"What are you trying to do now?" he asked, his voice hoarse. He realized that sleeping on the couch without any sort of blanket in an apartment with little heating had probably caused him to contract a cold, but he shook it off. Nothing to worry about. She turned around and stuck her tongue out at him, and he noticed that she was wearing a dark shade of cinnamon colored lip gloss.

"I'm making myself breakfast." she answered. "I have to get to work in 2 hours and I have to take the bus." He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Don't have a car?" he said. She shook her head.

"Cars are expensive, not to mention the gas required to drive them. My inability to hold down a job sort of quashed any hopes of ever getting one." she explained, picking up the frying pan she was tending and scraping the rather burned and runny contents onto a plate. He noticed that she had been trying to make herself scrambled eggs, but had failed miserably.

"Is that even _edible_?" he asked, standing and running a hand through his dark brown, almost black hair, which was thick with knots. She whirled around and glared at him.

"Yes." she replied. He looked at the plate.

"You're sure about that?" he asked. "I'm not sure you whisked it enough, and you definitely overcooked it."

"Oh, so besides being a master interior decorator, you're also a chef, huh?" she said.

"I don't need to be either of those to be better than you at those particular arts." he replied. "It's not really that difficult."

He jumped to the left just as a mug, still full of coffee, sailed towards his head. It ended up colliding with the wall behind him and shattering, leaving a large coffee stain on the wall.

"You're going to have to clean that up." he pointed out. Janice shrieked a little, then looked at the clock. It was now 5:16.

"Oh, fuck you." she said, grabbing the plate and scraping the eggs into the trashcan.

"You wish." he replied, leaning back lazily against the counter. He was forced to jump to the left again as the plate was sent flying like a Frisbee directly towards his face. It then smashed against the wall in almost the exact same place as the mug had. She flipped him the bird as she grabbed her purse, checking to make sure that she had everything, and ran out the door. He grinned maliciously, then pulled his hand through his hair again and sneered. He needed a shower, badly.

* * *

><p>Janice glanced around the office as she shyly entered, clutching her purse to her chest like a lifeline. It had been a long time since she'd been in a high school. In fact, she hadn't been in one since she had been <em>in<em> high school. She'd never been asked to be a substitute teacher before, even though her name had been on the list for years, ever since she got her teaching license during her first year of university. She actually had gotten a record number of degrees in four years, according to her university. Only two of them were legitimate, however; her medical degree and her psychology degree. The rest had been obtained through less.. _scrupulous_ means.

She walked up to the desk. The tired looking secretary looked up from her paperwork and adjusted her spectacles, which were too big for her wrinkled face.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I'm the new substitute teacher, here to sub for Mr. Reese." Janice explained. "Principal Baker asked me to meet with him so that he could talk to me about my payment and show me around the school."

"I see. His office is just through there." the secretary said, gesturing towards a door in the back of the room, behind the room-length desk she was sitting at. Janice nodded and mumbled a weary 'thank you' before shuffling around the back of the desk, her heels making a sharp _click_ against the linoleum. She opened the door at the back and peered inside. Sitting at the desk was a man that couldn't be much older than her, filling out some paperwork. He looked up when he heard the door shut behind her. For a moment, he was speechless, with his mouth hanging open, no doubt not having expected such a beautiful woman (she did have the stereotypical latina charm when she took the effort to, passed down from her mother) to be the substitute he had hired. But he managed to regain his composure rather quickly.

"Ah, Ms. Michaels, I presume?" he said with a smile. She smiled back.

"You presume correctly, Principal Baker." she replied. She extended a hand towards him and he shook it. She made note of his strong grip. "Now, down to business..."

"Ah, yes, your pay. Like I said, we're willing to pay you Mr. Reese's full rate, seeing as you'll be subbing for him for _quite_ a while. We'll pay you on a weekly basis, in case Mr. Reese comes back early." he explained. "Will that be OK with you?" he asked. She nodded, and he rose from his seat. "Well then, would you like to see the school?"

"Actually, is there anywhere that I can eat? A self-proclaimed food critic prevented me from getting a decent meal this morning." she explained. He chuckled at her, and she smiled. She had almost forgotten what a sincere laugh sounded like.

"First stop: the teacher's lounge, then." he said, walking towards the door. He opened it for her and she walked out with him, following him out of the office, down a few hallways, and into a room at the far end of the school. At the back of the room there was a couch, a few chairs and a coffee table, at one side there was a series of vending machines, and at the other there was a long table with many kinds of food laid out on it. They walked over to the table. "Help yourself." he said. She went over to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup. Baker held up a box of donuts. "Would you like one?" he asked.

"No thanks." she said, taking a piece of toast from a nearby plate and taking a bite of it plain. "I'm good with just this." He looked at her oddly, but smiled.

"OK then, if that's what you want." He pulled a donut out of the box and took a bite of it, before pouring himself his own cup of coffee and wandering over to the couch. Janice sighed to herself.

_Why can't _Riddler_ be as nice as him_? She asked herself. _Oh right. Self involved psychopath. I guess that's the price I pay to stay Question Mark._

* * *

><p>When Janice entered her last class of the day, all of her students were already sitting at their desks. Some were doodling in their notebooks, some were chatting loudly with their friends across the room, but all of them were there, at the very least. She tossed her bag onto the chair behind the teacher's desk and sat on the desk, looking at the students.<p>

"Afternoon, guys." she said, shifting to get herself comfortable. The students looked up at her. "Mr. Reese is gone for his chemotherapy, as I'm sure you all know, so I'm going to be your substitute teacher for quite a while. My name is Janice Michaels, and if you call me Ms. Michaels, I'm going to have to kill you for making me sound old. So just call me Janice." she said. They all nodded. "OK, great! Now, let's see...since this is current events class, and because I really don't want to have to read the like, 5 page lesson plan your teacher left for me, I figured we should just discuss a topic. Now, does anyone have any suggestions?" Several hands went up, and she was about to select one of them, when her cell phone started chirping in her pocket. She swore under her breath and pulled the phone out. The screen on the front of the phone proudly displayed her home phone number, so she knew immediately who was calling her. "Would you guys excuse me for a minute? This is an important call." With that, she slipped out of the classroom and into the hallway. She flipped open the phone and put it to her ear. "Do you have any fucking idea what time it is, you bastard?" she hissed.

"Oh, did I interrupt you in the middle of class? I'm _so_ sorry." Riddler replied smugly. She hissed a stream of creative curses for a while.

"That's just _mean_." she grumbled. He chuckled.

"You should have been expecting it. Now, are you done? Because making you look like an idiot in front of your students isn't the only reason I called." he said.

"I'll bet it's one of the main ones." she muttered.

"Actually, the reason I called was I just heard about a shipment coming in at Animex Robotics tonight, and we'll be paying them a visit." he explained. She rolled her eyes, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

"And you interrupted my class for _that_, when you could have just told me when I got _home_?" she said, her voice rising a bit.

"Yes, well, it serves you right for not having your priorities straight." With that, he hung up, leaving her to listen to a dial tone. She squeezed the phone in anger and in seconds, it was in pieces in her hand. She cursed.

"Damnit, cheap fucking thing. I needed that."

She stuffed the broken remains of the cell phone into her purse and slipped back into the classroom, silently fuming. The students stopped talking and looked up at her.

"Everything OK, teach?" ashed a red-headed girl sitting at the front of the class. She massaged her temple and sighed.

"Yeah, yeah..." she replied, leaning against her desk. "Anyways, have you guys thought of any good topics?" she asked. The red-head's hand shot up. She nodded at her. "Yes, Ms...?"

"Gordon, Barbara Gordon." she replied. Janice nodded. This girl was Commissioner Gordon's daughter, according to the notes left for her in her class roster. "I was thinking that maybe we could talk about the Batman." she suggested. In seconds the class was buzzing with excited whispers and murmurs of agreement. She looked around; nobody seemed opposed to the idea. She pulled herself up so she was sitting on the desk.

"What is it exactly that makes the Batman so intriguing?" she asked, smoothing a wrinkle in her skirt. Several hands shot up and she nodded at a freckled blond boy towards the back.

"Well, he does a lot of cool things, like arrest criminals." he said. "He's like those guys on Saturday morning cartoons, only he's real, and just a guy with cool stuff." She nodded at another boy with long, greasy black hair, sitting in the second row back.

"I think a lot of people are interested in him because of how mysterious he is. I mean, _nobody_ knows who he really is." he said. She nodded.

"On that note, I have another question for you guys; do you really think it's a good idea for us to trust our city to a man who hides behind a cowl and a silly costume?" she asked. "How do we _really_ trust a man we barely know?" More hands shot up. She nodded at another boy, although she was unsure of who he was.

"Well, he's kind of proven that he's a good guy, since he's caught all those freaky criminals." he said.

"But the freaks didn't start appearing until the Batman showed up." she reminded him. "So has the Batman _really_ done anything to help us? Or had he just made things worse?" Everyone grew quiet, unable to think of an answer. But Barbara's hand shot up almost immediately, much to Janice's surprise. "You disagree?" she said, almost in surprise, and certainly in confusion. Barbara nodded.

"The Batman's done a lot for Gotham. Maybe a _few_ criminals, freak shows who think they can get away with anything, were brought out by the Batman, but thanks to my Dad's job, I've seen some of those freaks, and most of them would've gone nuts without the Batman's help. And there's no way the police could stop them." she said in defense. "My dad said so himself." Janice nodded thoughtfully.

"Maybe so." she replied. "But does that really make up for all the criminals he _did_ bring out?" Another boy put his hand up.

"You mean like the Riddler?" he asked. She nodded.

"Exactly. Actually, I got a chance to speak with Riddler when I was a psychologist at Arkham." she said, almost boastfully.

"Hey, wasn't there a Riddler copycat who broke into Arkham and trashed the head-guy's office and like, spray painted question mark's everywhere?" the freckled blond boy asked. There was another bout of murmuring.

"That's stupid. Why rip off such a lame villain? Why not try to do something _original_?" asked a girl in the front, seated beside Barbara Gordon. "They must have been pretty hard up for ideas."

Janice gripped the desk as tightly as she could, feeling her fingernails leave crescent markings in the varnish. She gritted her teeth as she tried to ignore the outbreaking discussion about how pathetic the Riddler copycat was. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"Well, um, why don't we get back on track? Does anyone else have an opinion about whether the Batman is helping or hurting the city?" she asked, reaching desperately for a distraction from her growing anger. The students were quick to oblige, spouting off the arguments. Barbara was looking at her suspiciously, but she shook it off.

After all, it was normal for students not to trust their substitute teachers.

* * *

><p>"So, how was your first day, Janice?"<p>

Janice looked up from organizing her purse to see Jonathan standing beside her desk, smiling at her. She smiled back.

"It was OK. The students were well behaved, and there were no problems during class. A way better first day than I expected to have, all things considered." she replied, closing her purse and pulling it over her shoulder.

"I'm glad to hear that." he said. "I guess you're one of the lucky ones. Most of our substitutes run away screaming after their first class." She smiled.

"I hope you're joking." she said. He chuckled.

"I wish I were." he replied. There was a moments pause. "So, Janice, me and a bunch of the other teachers are all going out for a drink tonight, as sort of a farewell party for Mr. Reese. Would you be interested in joining us?" he asked. She smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, but I can't." she said. "I have a prior commitment, and I'm afraid that I really can't cancel."

"I understand. But if you change your mind, we'll be at the bar on 43rd Street, and here," Jonathan took a piece of paper from the desk and grabbed a pen, scribbling something on the paper. "Here, this is my cell phone number. Call me if you need anything." She took the slip of paper and tucked it into her purse.

"I will. Thanks." she said. The clock proudly reminded her that she was running rather late, and she still had to stop at the cell phone store to pick up a replacement for the one sitting in pieces in her purse. She cursed under her breath and jumped up, headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Principal Baker."

"Please, call me Jonathan." he said. She smiled at him.

"See you tomorrow, then, _Jonathan_." she corrected, before dashing out of the classroom.

As she made her way towards the bus stop, she sighed, wishing that Riddler could at least be as _civil_ as her new employer.

* * *

><p>"I'm home." she called, walking through her doorway and tossing her purse onto the table. Riddler looked up from her laptop, which he had borrowed without her permission (not that he cared in the least), and frowned angrily at her.<p>

"You're late." he said, closing the laptop. She frowned at him.

"Well, soorrryyy." she said. "But thanks to a certain _someone_, I needed to go out and buy a new cell phone." He rolled his eyes at her.

"That was not in any way my fault. It's your own anger." he said.

"Well, besides that, I also got caught up talking to the principal." she said. "Nice man."

"You really should prioritize better, Janice. After all, how do you expect to focus on being my partner and being a teacher at that school at the same time?" he asked. He moved the laptop over to the cushion beside him and crossed his legs, leaning back confidently. "Being my partner has to come first, otherwise I'll have to let you go." he said. She growled at him.

"Need I remind you that I know the locations of all of your hideouts?" she said. He chuckled lightly.

"I can always get new hideouts, Janice. But enough of that now." he said, opening the laptop again. He opened a file and gestured for her to come over. She wandered over to the couch and sat beside him so that she could see the screen, but maintained as much distance as she possibly could. A map appeared on screen. "This is the layout of the Animex Robotics Corporation. The cameras in the lobby could present a challenge, but if we sneak past them correctly—"

"This is wrong. All wrong." Janice interrupted, pointing at the markings showing where the cameras were located. "These should be over here, and this one is waaaay farther down than that, and that one's on the other side of the room." she said, moving her finger across the screen to show where the cameras should be. He looked at her oddly.

"And how do you know _that_?" he asked. She shrugged.

"I used to work there, once upon a time." she said. "About 2 years ago."

"So how could you remember the locations of the cameras all this time?" he asked skeptically.

"I have a photographic memory." she replied. "It could have been 20 years ago, and I'd still remember it like it was yesterday." He scoffed.

"I have a hard time believing that. Photographic memories are rare." he said. She glared at him, then took a deep breath.

"'Edward J. Nigma, alias 'the Riddler'. Suspected psycho- and sociopath, not often agreeable. Must be monitored at all times. A highly intelligent man, but quick to anger. Approach with extreme caution.'" she quoted. "Your Arkham file, word for word. It was in size 12 font, Times New Roman, and included an 8x10 glossy of your mugshot." Riddler thought for a moment.

"Well, Janice, perhaps you _do_ have some useful talents." he said, changing the positions of the cameras on the map per her instructions. The compliment caught her off guard. "Of course, you're still essentially useless, but what am I to do? We have a deal, after all."

Janice smacked him, leaving a violent red mark on his pale cheek.

"At least _I_ don't get beat on by a guy in a bat costume."

* * *

><p>It was much later that night before they actually tried to sneak out of the apartment building. Janice had changed into her Question Mark outfit, complete with a mask that was quite similar to Riddler's, which she had bought at the same time as her new phone.<p>

Riddler opened the window and stepped onto the frame, pulling himself through. The night air was cold, and stung the exposed skin on his face and arms. He looked down at the ground below; the height wasn't extreme, being that they were only on the second floor. He pushed off of the frame and let himself fall towards the earth. Using his staff to slow his descent by scraping it against the wall as he went down, he landed easily. He then turned back towards the window and saw Janice frozen in the window, apparently fearful about the drop. He rolled his eyes.

"Not scared, are you?" he asked. She growled.

"I'm not a freaking ballerina like _you_." she said. "I can't land a 2 story drop like a freaking cat." He sighed.

"Well, what do _you_ suggest, then?" he asked. He then held out his arms. "Jump down. I'll catch you." She scoffed.

"Yeah, _right_. You'd _love_ to have me jump to my death." she hissed.

"You don't have much of a choice. Unless, of course, you want to give up being Question Mark, in which case I'll understand completely." he said. She made a noise of discontent that was something between a hiss and a snarl.

"I hate you so much, you know." she said. He chuckled.

"I know." And with that, she jumped.

True to his word, Riddler caught her, barely flinching under the sudden added weight. Janice was shocked. She had expected to merely be let drop to her untimely demise, but apparently Riddler had a stronger sense of character than she had thought.

She was about to give him more credit when he slid his arms out from underneath her, letting her fall to the cold, hard ground. She cried out as her tail-bone protested the sudden pain.

"Why you—" she started, but he put a finger to his lips in a 'shush' gesture.

"Remember, there are other people in the building. We don't want them to hear us, _Question Mark_." he said mockingly. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him menacingly, but he merely started to walk away again. "Hurry up, or I'll have to leave you behind."

With a growl, Janice got to her feet, and followed.


	4. Petty Thievery

**A/N:** Welcome back to Every Good Riddle. As you can see, I'm trying very hard to develop Janice's character a lot more than in the old version, where she was pretty much a paper cut out. I want to know what you think of her. And if someone makes a comment about the fact that she called herself Question Mark, I will go ballistic. I've had too many people bitch about her name, which is why I even included Riddler calling her out on it. Just shut up about it. It's not going anywhere, so your complaints will be for naught.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_Petty Thievery_

The tall building was silhouetted against the blood red sky, like a finger pointing in accusation at the silver moon. Only two figures slunk across the silent streets, hiding their slim figures where even street lights didn't reach. They made their way towards the doors of the imposing building, sliding gracefully through the shadows like dancers. When they reached the doors, Riddler turned to Question Mark.

"Stay back, out of my way." he reminded her. She rolled her eyes.

"If I'm just going to be in the background, why am I here?" she asked.

"Don't worry, you'll get your time in the limelight. But stay back for a moment while I get this door unlocked." he said. He took his staff and jammed the tip into the lock on the door, but didn't hear the click. He looked at the door in confusion. Question Mark rolled her eyes.

"Didn't work, did it?" she said. He turned at her and glared. "The actual lock is just a facade. The timed lock is the real thing, and the mechanism is in too deep to reach with any sort of lock pick. Here, step aside and let me do it." She pushed Riddler aside and spun around, delivering a punishing roundhouse kick to the lock. There was a sharp cracking sound and it began sparking. She grinned smugly at him as he passed. He snarled at her.

"I could have done that, you know." he said, pouting slightly. She nodded.

"Suuuure you could, boss. Suuuure you could." she said. He narrowed his eyes at her and brushed past, striding into the building angrily. She followed behind leisurely, her arms behind her head, whistling. He stopped abruptly, causing her to bump into him. She nearly fell over.

"Hey, what's the big—" she began, but Riddler cut her off.

"Security cameras." he reminded her, nodding towards the darkness. Every so often, blinking red lights temporarily illuminated the darkness, displaying the location of the alert cameras. She looked around and nodded, slipping into the darkness as the plan specified. Having memorized the locations of the cameras, she easily navigated the blind spots and got to the reception desk. She booted up the computer and accessed the security grid, shutting off the cameras and turning on the lights. Once the cameras stopped turning and the blinking red lights went dim, Riddler stepped further into the room. Without bothering to wait for Question Mark, he made his way towards the storage rooms. Question Mark hopped the desk and followed, staying far enough behind that his only indication that she was even following was the_ click, click, click_ of her boot heels. He stopped suddenly again, running through his mental map of the building, and she walked up beside him.

"What exactly are we looking for?" she asked. He ignored her and continued going through the map in his mind. "Earth to Riddler, come in Riddler! Where are we supposed to be _going_, anyway?"

"Will you be _quiet_?" he hissed, turning towards her. "I can't think while you're blabbering in my ear like that!" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm just trying to help, you don't have to bite my head off. Geeze." she said, pouting angrily. "If you weren't so pissy all the time, maybe you could actually _accomplish _something, and you wouldn't be called lame by high-schoolers." Riddler's left eye twitched slightly, and he pretended to ignore her and strode down the hall, still trying to remember where he was going. Question Mark sighed and followed leisurely. She knew exactly how to get to where Riddler wanted to go, but she'd let him wander around lost for a little bit. After all, if he wasn't about to admit that he needed her help, she wasn't about to give it.

* * *

><p>It took them about 15 minutes to find the storage room containing the parts that Riddler was searching for. 15 minutes longer than it probably would have taken if Question Mark had been the one leading them. But they did manage to find it, in the end, and Riddler began opening boxes and pulling out parts, trying to find what he needed. Question Mark leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, watching him. She sighed.<p>

"How long is this going to take?" she asked.

"As long as it takes. Just sit there and be quiet until I'm done." he said. She snarled and closed her eyes. He could have sworn he heard her mutter 'stupid techno geek', but ignored it. He knelt down and peered under a shelf, pulling out a box hidden underneath is. A grin spread across his face as he saw what he had been searching for, settled amongst piles of Styrofoam peanuts and bubble wrap. He pulled one out and held it up to the lame fluorescent lighting and turned it over and over in his hands.

"Is that the thing we came to get?" Question Mark asked with an exasperated sigh. He turned and gave her a slightly disapproving look.

"You should learn some patience." he said. In response, she gave him the finger. He rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, dusting himself off after kneeling on the less-than-spotless floor. "Let's go, before Batman shows up." he said, handing the part to Question Mark. She tucked it into the leather bag she was carrying over her shoulder, then opened the door to the supply room and slipped out into the hallway. Riddler quickly followed her, trying to keep pace with her as she twisted and turned through the hallways, headed towards the exit.

"Going somewhere?"

They both whirled around and saw three figures standing there, barely visible in the dim light. Riddler growled.

"And a good evening to _you_, Batman and company." he snarled. Batman, Batgirl, and Robin all stepped into the brighter lights, Batman as stoic as usual, and Batgirl and Robin were smirking smugly. "How did you find us?" he asked.

"Your tampering with the lock set off the silent alarm." Batman replied. Riddler smirked and turned towards Question Mark.

"Not so smart a move, was it?" he said gloatingly. She snarled at him, her eyes narrowed into thin slits.

"And I suppose _you_ had a better idea, oh magnificently intelligent leader, who can't even figure out how to properly pick a lock?" she replied.

"I _always_ have a better idea." he answered.

"Your argument is fun to watch, but who _are_ you, anyways?" Batgirl asked. Question Mark turned towards her, her hands on her hips.

"The name's Question Mark." she replied, looking more than a little exasperated and annoyed. "Anyways, can we just get this over with? I'm feeling really frustrated right now, and I could use something to beat up."

"Don't worry, we'll make this quick." said Robin. Question Mark smirked.

And with that, she rushed at them.

She was blindingly fast, and managed to deliver a punishing roundhouse kick to Robin, knocking him into the other two. They hit the opposite wall of the narrow hallway, and before they could recover, she rushed at them again, doing a forward tumble and striking against Batman's chest, pushing herself off and being propelled back across the hallway, colliding in a more gentle manner with the wall, and sliding down. Batman, however, was not as lucky, evident by the sharp, painful _crack _that was possibly a breaking rib. He made a grunt of discomfort, and Question Mark smiled.

"Painful, huh?" she said. He merely looked up and glared at her.

Meanwhile, Riddler had taken advantage of the Bats' distraction, and had slipped away. It took a while for anyone to notice his absence, but soon enough, it _was_ noticed, by Batgirl and Robin. They slipped away from the fight, as Batman seemed to be holding his own against Question Mark, and followed him.

"You're not leaving yet, are you? The party's just getting started." Batgirl said, doing a flip and landing in front of the fleeing Riddler. He turned to try and run the other way, but Robin was there to block his path. He pulled out his staff and twirled it. Riddler turned so that his back was to the wall and he could see both of them, and raised his staff to a defensive position. Robin rushed at him, but he easily deflected the blow from the staff, pushing him out of the way, trying to clear the path. But Batgirl quickly cut him off, aiming a quick right hook at him. He blocked with his staff, causing Batgirl to yelp when her knuckles met the metal with a sharp _crack_. Holding his staff at each end, he smashed the long section into her ribcage while she was recovering, sending her to the floor with a small cry of surprise. Robin had recovered and tried to attack from behind, but Riddler dropped out of the way of the strike and swept his feet out from under him.

"Question Mark!" he yelled to catch her attention, jumping to his feet and fending off Batgirl as she rushed at him again. Question Mark looked away from Batman, causing her punch to miss its target, and noticed Riddler's ongoing battle with Batgirl and Robin. In a split second she moved to the back wall and jumped towards Batman, her sharp boot heels aimed for his chest, smashing him into the opposite wall. His head connected with a sickening crack, and he slumped to the ground, temporarily stunned. Question Mark then jumped towards the three-way brawl and did a kick that struck Batgirl in the back, causing her to stumble forwards. She then used Batgirl's shoulders for leverage and sprung towards Robin, smashing into his chest. She turned back towards Batgirl, who had recovered from the kick, and delivered a punishing right cross directly to her face, knocking the young woman out. Robin rose shakily to his feet and tried to attack her, but she blocked with her forearm and struck him with the back swing, knocking him into a wall. He, too, fell limply to the floor. Question Mark smirked triumphantly.

"Not so tough, are they?" she asked, nudging Robin's unconscious form with her boot. Riddler narrowed his eyes.

"There's no time for standing around like this. We'd better get out of here before they wake up." he said. She looked at him in confusion.

"Why not finish them off right here? They're completely vulnerable." she asked. He smiled smugly, looking at her as though she were stupid.

"Because that would defeat the purpose." he replied. She snarled, but he ignored it, and turned to leave. After hesitating for a moment, looking at the prone, unconscious forms of the Bats, Question Mark sighed and followed.

* * *

><p>The apartment was a welcome sight for both as they entered, having easily sneaked by the sleeping concierge and the dozing night guard. Janice pulled off her mask and threw it onto the table along with her bag, beelining for her bedroom and the bathroom contained within. Riddler opened the bag and took out the small mechanical part, dragging himself over to the couch. He collapsed onto it and turned the piece over and over in his hands as Janice came out of her room, first-aid kit in hand. She sat in the chair across from the couch and started applying disinfectant and Band-Aids to her many cuts and scrapes. Riddler watched her as he pretended to examine the part, which she didn't seem to notice. The heist played over and over in his mind, and the question of whether of not Janice was truly a useful addition to his group crossed his mind. Her rash temper and lack of self control were certainly an annoyance, to say the least, but she did have some very useful skills, such as her photographic memory and her ability to fight. He decided that it would be useful to keep her around, even with her temper. She looked up from dabbing a scratch with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, and he forced himself not to flinch, knowing she couldn't tell he was looking at her. She tossed the cotton ball into the waste basket and pulled out a Band-Aid, putting it on the scratch, never looking away from him. After a minute or so of this, he set the part on the coffee table in front of him and looked up at her.<p>

"What is it _now_?" he asked with an exasperated sigh. She stared at the part inquisitively.

"What is that thing _for_, exactly?" she asked, leaning her elbows on her knees and placing her head in her cupped hands. He sighed again and leaned back confidently, picking up the mechanical part and twirling it with one hand.

"I'm afraid that's on a need-to-know basis," he said, leaning on the armrest nearest to him. "and you don't need to know." He prepared to dodge an incoming projectile, remembering that she was still holding the First-Aid kit, but nothing was thrown. She merely narrowed her eyes and growled in annoyance.

"Well, if I'm going to be the one saving your ass from a bunch of vigilantes in tights, then I _do_ need to know." she growled, crossing her arms in annoyance. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I don't _need_ your help, you know. You're only here because _you_ want to be." he reminded her. She smirked at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, right. You're not _that_ generous, _Eddie_. The only reason you're letting me stick with you is because you need me for something. I'm guessing because I can kick more ass than you. Or maybe it's my memory. Well, whatever the reason, you're not going to hide anything from me." she said. He clenched his teeth and snarled slightly, but she just kept smirking at him triumphantly, knowing she was right. Eventually he gave up and sighed.

"It's a part to be used in building a machine that is integral to my plan to rule all of Gotham. That's all you need to know." he replied, massaging his temples. She looked at him in vague frustration but, realizing she wasn't going to get a better answer, sighed and stood. She tossed the First-Aid kit to Riddler, who caught it expertly.

"I'm not giving up on knowing what that thing does, you know." she said. "But I'm too tired to deal with it right now. I'll see you in the morning." With that, she rose from her chair and sauntered towards her bedroom. Riddler watched her as she left, confused as to why she had been so lenient. It didn't seem to be like her. Maybe it was just because she was tired from the fight with Batman, Batgirl, and Robin? He shook his head. It was better not to dwell on it. After all, who could be expected to understand women's emotions? Especially _that_ particular woman.

* * *

><p>Janice cracked open one eye and groaned at the annoying sound of her alarm. She reached for the clock radio and groped for the 'sleep' button. Substitute teaching had its perks, but having to get up at 5 o' clock in the morning was not one of them. She pulled the sheets tightly around her until she remembered that work was pretty much her only escape from the constant annoyance that was Riddler, and pulled herself away from the soft, tempting mattress. Groggily, she dragged herself to the bathroom and took a quick shower, and pulled on her outfit, a pair of dress pants and a white button down blouse. She then strode out into the living area and flicked on the light. Riddler, who had crashed on the couch, still in full garb and makeup, hissed and hid his eyes in the cushions.<p>

"Do you _have_ to wake me up at 5 in the morning?" he grumbled, taking the couch pillow from beneath his head and placing it over so the light was no longer burning the back of his eyelids. Janice rolled her eyes.

"Well, _sorrryyy,_ princess, but I need to get ready for work, and you're a freeloader. Ergo, your sleep cycle means very little to me." she said. She waited for a witty comeback, but Riddler merely buried his face further in the crook between the armrest and the back of the couch. "Anyways, don't call me during class today. That was really embarrassing." she said, wandering over to the kitchen and turning on the coffee maker. She grabbed the loaf of bread from the counter and pulled out two slices, throwing them in the toaster. Riddler yawned and sat up, stretching.

"Sure, fine." he mumbled, standing and cracking his back. Janice did a double take.

"Wait, did you just _agree_?" she asked, looking at him, dumbfounded. "Say that again, I want to make sure I heard that correctly." Riddler peeled off his mask and rolled his eyes.

"I said, I won't call you while you're teaching a class again." he replied, wandering over to the kitchen, where the coffee pot was bubbling, and poured himself a cup. Janice just stood there looking dumbstruck. "Are you okay?" he asked, not really caring about the answer, but feeling like being polite.

"I should be asking you that." she said. "Since when are you so agreeable? Did you hit your head or something?" she asked. Riddler looked into his coffee, using the surface as a mirror, and snarled at the state of his makeup, which he hadn't washed off the night before, having fallen asleep working on the blueprint for the device he was going to need for his plan.

"I'm just not feeling well this morning, that's all." he replied, trying to wipe away his smudged eyeshadow as best he could. "I'm guessing it's from trying to digest your cooking."

His head reeled as Janice's palm connected solidly with his cheek, causing him to drop his mug, the porcelain shattering when it met the linoleum floor, leaving a puddle of coffee pooling at their feet. He reached up and touched the newly formed, stinging red mark on his cheek, and his look of shock changed to an exasperated frown.

"You really shouldn't do that, you know. Violence won't get you anywhere." he said. She cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly not amused.

"Violence is how I saved your ass last night. You wouldn't have been able to get out of that without my help." she reminded him, crossing her arms.

"I would have done just fine without you. I've held my own against the Bats before." he replied. Her unamused scowl changed to an amused grin.

"Oh, really? And I'm guessing that's why you keep ending up in Arkham. You _totally_ meant to do that, right? All a part of the plan?" she said, chuckling. He had no reply, and just glared at her in response. She started giggling. "What's the matter? Bat got your tongue?" she asked, smirking at him.

"At least _I_ have useful abilities. I'm a credited super genius. And what are you? A petty sidekick, a woman with no other reason to being a part of this than a pathological need for destruction." he said. Janice stopped laughing and growled at him, which he smirked at.

"I'm every bit as useful as you are, Riddler. You wouldn't have been able to get anywhere without me last night." she spat, poking him in the chest. He winced as she poked hard enough to leave a bruise.

"I also wouldn't have run into the Bats, in case you care to remember." he replied. She looked like she was about to yell at him, but stopped when she noticed the time on the oven. Her eyes widened.

"Damnit, I'm going to be late for work!" she cried, grabbing the toast from the toaster and her purse from the table. She quickly scarfed down the toast as she went to the closet and grabbed her coat, pulling it on. "Remember, no calling me!" she yelled as she stood at the door. Riddler rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." he said, waving his hand, not really listening. She narrowed her eyes at him, but knew that she couldn't waste any more time arguing, and strode out the door, locking it behind her as she always did. After all, no one needed to know she was secretly hiding a super villain in her apartment.

As the door closed, Riddler breathed a sigh of relief.

_So she's back to normal. Good._ He thought. Her sudden personality change had been worrisome, not that he would ever admit it.

After all, she was just an annoying tag along, nothing more.

It was almost _more_ worrying that he had to keep reminding himself of that.

* * *

><p>Janice poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot in the teacher's lounge. There were a few teachers milling about, but she mostly ignored them. She had no interest in befriending her colleagues; she'd never gotten anything good from doing so, and the only things that interested her these days were staying below the radar and getting a chance to run around as Question Mark every so often. Of course, that meant having to deal with Riddler...but she was an expert at having to take the bad with the good. She'd gotten used to doing it over the years.<p>

While stewing about her argument with Riddler that very morning, and glaring at her untouched coffee, she didn't notice Baker come up behind her.

"Good morning, Janice." he greeted. She turned around and tried to fake a smile, as she wasn't really in much of a smiling mood.

"Good morning, Jonathan." she replied. Jonathan looked at her with what seemed to be a concerned look in his eyes.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked. She was slightly taken aback by the concern.

"Yeah, why?" she asked.

"It's just that you seem angry." he replied. "You're like that every morning you get here." She sighed and leaned back against the breakfast table, staring into the surface of her coffee moodily.

"It's nothing, really." she replied. "I've just got someone staying with me who can get pretty annoying a lot of the time, and who seems to get a sick pleasure from making me angry whenever he can." she explained, taking a sip of the coffee.

"Well, if you don't get along very well with him, why are you letting him live with you?" he asked. "Why not just kick him out?" Janice opened her mouth to reply, but quickly realized that she didn't really have an answer. Why _did_ she let Riddler stay with her? Aside from being incredibly annoyed and angered by him on a regular basis, it also posed a serious risk. After all, if anyone found out that she was harboring a known escaped criminal, it would be disastrous. She would be thrown in jail for certain, and she already had enough trouble getting jobs, she didn't need a criminal record on top of that.

Jonathan looked at his watch, then at the clock on the wall.

"It's almost time for first period." he reminded everyone. None of the teachers seemed too pleased about this revelation, but Janice was too lost in thought to really care as she made her way towards her classroom in an almost trance-like state.

She went through the rest of the day without any events of interest. She set up each of her classes with groups projects, small things that wouldn't require a lot of her attention but would keep the students busy while she wasted the day in thought. The question of why she allowed Riddler to live with her was not an easy one to answer, and it required most of her concentration.

* * *

><p>Of course, not everyone was as pleased to go along with her spacing out as most of the students. Barbara, for one, was rather annoyed by it; not by the lack of work, but by the fact that it was as dull as the day was long. About halfway through class she finally got fed up with watching her stare off into space, lost to the world, and stood, abandoning her group (which consisted of three giggling blond girls discussing a movie they'd gone to see that weekend) and striding up to the desk. At first, Janice didn't notice her, so she cleared her throat.<p>

"Janice?" she said. Janice, slightly startled, looked up at her, clearly snapped out of her daze.

"Yes, Barbara?" she asked, blinking as though trying to restore her sight. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering if you were feeling okay. You've been sitting there staring at nothing all class. It's not like you." she said. Janice sighed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I've just been having a tough time dealing with someone staying at my place." she said. "Nothing to worry about. It's just that something Principal Baker said to me really got me thinking. We'll get back to actually doing stuff tomorrow, I promise." she said. Barbara nodded, but wasn't really convinced. Her...'night job' had made her paranoid about everyone and everything around her, and Janice's sudden personality change made her suspicious. What was _really_ going on to make Janice so sullen?

Barbara was determined to get to the bottom of it, no matter what.

* * *

><p>Janice had spent pretty much the entire day thinking about why she permitted Riddler to live with her, and as she got on the public bus that evening, after a long few hours of marking and other assorted teacher work, she had finally come to a conclusion. It wasn't that she <em>enjoyed<em> having Riddler to stay with her—not at all. It wasn't like she was masochistic or anything. And she felt no compulsive need to keep him around; she wasn't afraid of him in the least, and she was in no way loyal to him. In the end, her decision was that she only allowed him to sleep on her couch and eat her food because she enjoyed being Question Mark. It was a risky job that certainly had its downsides, such as being considered a flunky by Riddler, and just having to generally deal with him, but the good outweighed the bad. She had never been more exhilarated than when she was decked out in green and black, breaking into buildings and causing havoc for the general public. She remembered how good it felt to completely destroy Tulley's office in revenge for his firing her (all for punching Riddler in the face and nearly breaking his nose, which was completely deserved), and how amused she had been by how no one had figured out that it was her. Being Question Mark was fun and exciting, and as long as she had Riddler around, it would continue to be that way. Because as much as she didn't want to admit it, Riddler was a better criminal than her. He knew the ins and outs of being a criminal in Gotham, and he knew exactly how to plan and bend everything in his favor. With him on her side, she knew she could continue to be Question Mark with little inhibition.

Of course, if a time ever came when she could make her way in the criminal world without Riddler's help, she would ditch him in an instant. There was no emotional attachment; it was a purely business relationship, and those had a tendency to be terminated when their usefulness ran out. She knew this from too many years in the working world, and the best option, in her experience, was to be the one doing the terminating. As soon as she could stand on her own two feet as Question Mark, free from her association with Riddler, their partnership would be history.

That's what she kept telling herself.


	5. Denial and Determination

**A/N:** It's been a while since I wrote any of this, actually, even though it won't seem that long to _you_ guys since this story will be finished, or almost finished, by the time any of you see it. It had, in fact, been almost 3 weeks since I last wrote any EGR. I've been trying to work on a few stories from later in the series, just to kind of lighten my workload, and they've kind of distracted me from this one. Hopefully I still have the knack. And if I don't...well, you guys get a sub-par chapter. Meh. Sometimes there's really nothing you can do about it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

_Denial and Determination_

In spite of her apparent revelation, Janice wasn't able to shake her daze, and was still out of sorts when she got back to her apartment building. She ignored people when they gave her curt hellos, and chose to take the slow moving, rarely used elevator instead of the stairs, in order to have more time to think, even though her muddled brain couldn't hold on to a train of thought for any longer than a few seconds. When she finally made it up to her apartment, she was once again questioning her reason for putting up with Riddler. Sure, her enjoyment of the role of Question Mark was a part of it—but what, subconsciously, pushed her away from the thought of kicking his freeloading ass out, even though she knew her association with him could get her in deep shit?

"Is something wrong, Ms. Michaels?"

Janice started when Jordan, the university student who lived a few doors down, spoke to her, not having seen him approach her. She didn't know what he meant until she realized she was standing at her door, the key in the lock, staring off into space. She shook her head to clear it and nodded blearily.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just thinking." she replied, turning the key to unlock the door and tucking it back in her purse. Jordan nodded, but didn't leave. She turned to him. "Something on your mind, kiddo?" she asked. He seemed startled by her question and gave her an embarrassed grin.

"I was just wondering...do you have someone staying with you? Because I hear someone shuffling around in there even after you leave." he asked. Janice sighed.

"Unfortunately." she replied. "Sorry, I don't know how long he'll be staying, but if he's bothering you, I can ask him to quiet down." Jordan looked at her in surprise.

"'He'? No, Ms, Michaels, he isn't bothering me, I just, um, didn't know you, uh, had someone _living_ with you..."

Janice nearly choked on her own tongue.

"Jordan, I _guarantee_ you have it _all_ wrong." she said, between periods of choking on her own spit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Michaels. Is he a relative?" he asked.

"No, just a business associate." she replied.

"I-I'm sorry, I just assumed—"

"Of course you did, Jordan." she growled, glaring at him. He gulped and turned to retreat to the safety of his apartment.

"Well, uh, I-I'll see you later, Ms. Michaels, bye!" With that, he made a mad dash for his door, slamming and locking it behind him. Janice laughed at the boy's fear, but the memory of what he had said returned and she gagged slightly. _Her_? And _Riddler_? Hell would freeze over _long_ before she even _considered_ the possibility. Even if he _was_ a genius. And had a sort of dangerous allure. And was quite handsome, albeit a bit feminine...

Janice could have smacked herself. What the _fuck_ was she _thinking_? Riddler was an arrogant, know-it-all bastard with an apparent inferiority complex. She sighed and pinched the ridge of her nose in exasperation.

_You've clearly been dateless for far too long if you're starting to consider _Riddler_, mon ami._ She thought, dragging herself into the apartment. She tossed her purse onto the small table in the entryway, not caring as things fell out of it, skidding across the laminate floor into the living room. As she threw her coat onto the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table, Riddler looked up from his computer (which was actually _hers,_ but he had stolen it almost immediately after moving in, and hadn't given it back since) and smiled at her. Not a sincere smile (she had yet to see what one of those looked like), but not the grimace he usually wore when seeing her. It was more of a sly grin than anything, the same grin that she had seen grace his handsome—_no, stop it Janice, you are _not_ going to be distracted by his looks, he's a bastard—_face during their heist.

"Ah, Janice, just the person I was hoping to see." he said. She raised a curious eyebrow at him.

"You're in an awfully good mood today." she said. "What're you hiding?"

"Why does being in a good mood have to mean I've done something wrong? We're not all as naturally bitter as you." he replied. She flashed him something between a grin and a grimace.

"_There's_ the Riddler I know and sometimes tolerate." she said through clenched teeth. "So, I'll bite. What's up with the nice act?" she asked, dropping into the armchair across from the couch. He smirked at her again.

"I've found more of the parts I need." he replied. "Custom made, available in only one location in all of Gotham, an electronics factory not far from here."

"That's awfully convenient. But yeah, I know the place you're talking about." she said. She nodded at the laptop. "So what's the plan?" she asked. He turned his attention back to the screen and brought something up, then gestured for her to come over. With a small groan she got out of her chair and went over to him, collapsing onto the couch but maintaining a fair distance. Riddler turned the laptop towards her, and she was greeted with the sight of what must have been the floor plan of the factory. Without being able to see the screen, Riddler zoomed in on a small room labeled 'Security Office', then brought up a second picture, a series of interconnected lines, layering it over the floor plan.

"_This_," he said, pointing at the floor plan. "is the floor plan for the building. And this," He then pointed to the picture of interconnected lines. "is a map of the ventilation system. The factory has an armored security door that can only be opened from the security office, but there will be multiple guards managing it. You'll need to take care of them and open the door for me. Then we'll—"

"Hey, wait a second. Why do _I_ need to be the one to take out the guards? Can't _you_ do it?" she asked, standing and crossing her arms. Riddler also stood and narrowed his eyes at her.

"I _could_, quite easily, in fact. But I'm not _going_ to, because _you_ are." he replied.

"But why?" she asked. "If you're fully capable, why do _I_ have to?"

"Because _you_ were the one who begged me to let you be my 'partner', and as long as you plan to keep calling yourself that, you _will_ do as I say." he hissed. She glared at him.

"I don't _need_ your help, you know. I could go solo at any time." she growled. In response, Riddler's look of anger changed to one of amusement, and he chuckled almost darkly.

"I'd like to see you _try_. You'd crash and burn before you even _started_. Face it, Janice; you _need_ me." he whispered. She gagged again, once again reminded of Jordan's wrongful assumption, and glowered.

"Like I need a fucking _hole in my head_." she hissed. "Who saved who's ass during the last heist?"

"Who tripped the alarm in the first place?" he replied.

"If you hadn't had me there, you never would have gotten _in_ in the first place." she said.

"I _would_ have. And I wouldn't have tipped off the Bats while doing so." he said smugly. "_I'm_ not above crawling through vents." Janice snarled.

"Like hell you aren't. You'd probably be worried about messing up your hair." she said, rolling her eyes. Riddler peeled off his mask and glared at her. Without saying anything, Riddler took a few quick steps towards her so they were less than a foot apart, and glared down at her. She returned the glare.

They stayed like that for about a minute, until Janice growled and backed away. Riddler grinned smugly at her retreating form, headed towards her bedroom.

"So, how was your day?" he asked, and chuckled when he heard the loud, frame-rattling slam of her door, and the gentle _click_ of the lock.

* * *

><p>"<em>Now, take a left at the next juncture.<em>"

Janice scowled at the sound of Riddler's voice buzzing in her ear piece.

"Yeah, yeah, I _know_. I saw the damn map, Riddler." she grumbled, moving farther into the ventilation shaft. It was too tight a fit for her to be able to actually _crawl_, but she could pull herself along with her elbows well enough. Not that that made her any happier to be there at all. She reached a four-way juncture and awkwardly twisted around to take the left path, ignoring the pain as the corner of the vent wall scraped against the side of her thigh, scratching the skin and leaving a patch raw and red. She kept moving down the long ventilation shaft.

"_You should be coming up on the opening to the security office. Just go another 20 feet or so and take the right path. It's the first vent in that stretch._" Riddler instructed.

"I _know_, damnit, I _know_!" she hissed. "I have a flawless memory, if you care to remember." She heard Riddler scoff on the other end of the line, but she ignored him and continued through the vents, until she reached the branching path. Turning into it was complicated by the lack of adjacent juncture and the violently stinging scrape on her left thigh, but she managed to do so without causing herself any serious injury. Still dragging herself along, as quietly as she could to keep any stray guards from hearing her, she found the vent opening onto the security office, just barely big enough for a human to fit through; with her athletic form, including muscles and robust thighs, it was going to be a tight fit. Carefully, she maneuvered her hands beneath her body to gain access to the fanny pack she was wearing, a substitute for the shoulder bag she normally brought with her on heists, and pulled out a screwdriver. Pulling herself up to the vent, she peered into the room below. It was tiny, with a large computer monitor and a long control panel, with three swivel chairs, being the only furnishings. Sitting in one of the chairs was a guard, who was snoring loudly; fast asleep, how unprofessional of him. She could only assume the other two guards that were supposed to be on duty were off patrolling the factory, or slacking off somewhere. Not that it mattered much to her. With some difficulty, she unscrewed the vent cover and pushed it aside. She then contorted herself in a way that allowed her to dangle her feet through the hole. Slowly, she lowered herself downwards, squirming her way through when the width of her hips got her stuck. Eventually, though, she was able to drop into the room. Careful not to wake up the slumbering guard, she walked over to the control panel and looked at it; there were many unlabeled buttons, switches, and knobs, as well of a slew of lights, some on, some not, but she was fairly sure she could work it well enough to open the armored door and, just for good measure, disable the security cameras. There was a small screen with a keypad below it located on the far left; on the screen was an image of the footage from the outdoor camera, as well as a green bar which read 'SECURITY DOOR ACTIVATED'. She hit a red button located to the side of the keypad, and another message popped up reading 'PLEASE ENTER SECURITY CODE TO DEACTIVATE DOOR.'

"Damn, I need a password..." she hissed, reaching for her ear piece.

"_Well, find one, then, and be quick about it._" Riddler replied. She was about to either reply wittily or curse him out when she heard footsteps and voices outside the door, and saw dark silhouettes in the window. She cured and dove behind the console, where it was so cramped for space she could barely breathe, but at the very least, she was completely concealed.

"—and so _I _said, 'Well, whatever.' I just can't deal with that woman sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah, man, I totally get what you're saying. Women can be hard to deal with."

The two absent guards entered the room, completely absorbed in their conversation. One of them noticed the third guard sleeping and kicked the back of his chair, making him hit his head against the console in front of him and waking him up with a start.

"...wha's goin' on?" he mumbled in a drowsy stupor.

"Stop falling asleep on the job, idiot. One of these days someone's gonna break in while you're off in Dreamland." replied one of the other guards, giving him a sound smack in the back of the head. The tired guard scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Who'd wanna steal any of _this_ junk? They don't even keep any money here." he said.

"Doesn't matter, they're still gonna fire you if they catch you sleeping." said one of the guards. He looked over and saw the message asking for the password for the security door. "Hey, were you trying to open the door?" he asked. The sleeping guard shook his head. The guard by the console looked up and saw the open vent, and narrowed his eyes. "Hey, Jim," he said, turning towards the third guard, the one who had come in with him. "take a look around the room." Jim looked confused, but nodded.

As he peered behind the computer console, he felt something collide with his chest, and was sent flying into the wall.

Janice jumped out from behind the console, in a fighting stance. One of the guards reached for his radio, but the side of her foot connected solidly with his head with a powerful roundhouse kick, and he was knocked out cold. The guard who she had kicked into the wall jumped up, taser in hand, and the other ran at her with a can of pepper spray. At the last second she dropped, making the two guards stumble into each other, and threw her legs up, pushing off with her hands and smashing into both of their shoulders, delighting in the sickening _crack_ that followed. She used the momentum to jump off of them and did a back flip, landing perfectly in front of the console. For good measure, and because she was in a particularly foul mood that day, she grabbed the two dazed men by the head and threw them to the ground hard enough to make them crack their heads and pass out. Dusting herself off, she started to dig through their pockets until she found a small pocket notebook with all of the access codes jotted down in it, and flipped through the pages until she found the code for the door. She punched it in on the keypad and the message changed to a red bar reading 'SECURITY DOOR OPEN'.

"Kay, I've got it open." she said. "Just give me a second and I can take out the cameras, too." She went to the main part of the console and began fiddling with switched and buttons and knobs until all of the images from the cameras turned to static. "They're all out, we're good to go."

"_Good. I'm entering the factory now. Meet me at the front door._" he said, and the constant static in her ear cut out as Riddler shut off his transmitter. With relish, she pulled the small headphone-like device out of her ear and put it in her fanny pack before slipping out of the room, headed for the front door.

* * *

><p>Riddler tossed the transmitter into Janice's shoulder bag and crept out of the alley he had been hiding in, not very far from the factory. He hissed at the weight of the shoulder bag; how did Janice manage to carry this around with such <em>ease<em>? She made it look so light. He heaved it further onto his shoulder and awkwardly pushed open the door. He looked around; it was black as pitch, which was both disorienting and comforting. Darkness meant that cameras were blind. He took a few careful steps forwards, waiting for his eyes to adjust as he listened for the familiar _click, click, click_ of Janice's high-heeled boots. He was starting to get worried—_no, not worried, annoyed—_when he didn't hear them, but suddenly, someone turned a flashlight on directly in his eyes. He hissed and shied away from the sudden bright light, and almost didn't catch the flashlight when it was tossed to him.

"Thought you might want one of these." Janice said, holding up her own. Riddler snarled at her. She glanced at her bag, which Riddler was slightly hunched over to be able to carry. "Need me to carry that?" she asked with a smirk. He narrowed his eyes and brushed past her, pulling the bag further onto his shoulder.

"No, you'll need both of your hands to fix your hair." he replied, watching her out of the corner of his eye to make sure he could duck when she inevitably threw something at him. Instead, she just smoothed her hair down and turned a slight shade of red.

"And who's fault is _that_?" she mumbled, her usual confidence lost. Riddler stopped and turned towards her, his eyes slightly widened. She nearly bumped into him, but stopped a step short. "_What?_" she hissed, still a delightful shade of rose. He blinked at her in mild disbelief.

"Nothing, nothing at all." he replied. "I was just wondering when you became such a wallflower." He turned and started to walk away, confident that he, for once, had the upper hand. Janice, however, had a different idea. As he walked, every so often sweeping the light across the area as though searching for a stray guard or working security camera, without warning, she kicked him square in the back, sending him sprawling with a cry. She quickly flipped him over with her foot and placed her heel on his throat, applying enough pressure to be uncomfortable, but not enough to choke him.

"_Who_ is a wallflower?" she snarled, applying slightly more pressure. "Am I a 'wallflower' _now_?"

"N-no, of course not!" Riddler choked, trying to force her foot off of his throat. With a triumphant grin, she removed her heel and began to walk away, leaving Riddler on the ground, coughing. He sat up slightly, so he was reclining on his elbows, and turned towards her. He whistled.

"Nice view. Do you always swivel your hips like that when you walk?" he asked, pulling his legs under him and pushing himself to his feet. Janice froze and flushed a deep crimson. Riddler grabbed his staff, which had fallen to the side in the confusion, and quickly passed her, headed once again towards the production line, but stopped and looked back when he didn't hear her following him. "Well? Are you coming?" he asked, crossing his arms impatiently. She did her best to shake off the redness of her cheeks and jogged lightly to catch up.

"Yeah, yeah, perv. I'm coming." she grumbled, grabbing her bag off of his shoulder and pulling it onto her own. She stuck her tongue out at him. "No need to strain yourself, I'm sure you'll need all of your energy." Now it was Riddler's turn to involuntarily turn a shade of rose as she walked ahead, and _she_ turned back and said smugly, "Well? Are _you_ coming?" Muttering under his breath, he followed, and soon they were walking side-by-side towards the production line. Janice was carrying her bag with relative ease, as though mocking him, but he wasn't paying attention to her shoulders in the slightest. When he realized what he was doing, he nearly slapped himself.

_Get it together, Riddler. This is no time for your inherent male instincts to be taking effect, especially not in response to _her_. Just focus on what you need to do, there will be time for such thoughts later..._ He forced himself to stop thinking and and blinked in confusion and mild disbelief at what had just crossed his mind.

"_What_ am I _thinking_?" he muttered to himself. Janice turned to look at him in confusion.

"Are you talking to yourself?" she asked. Riddler looked up and did his best not to turn a deep crimson.

"It's considerably better conversation than the current company can provide." he replied, forcing himself to sound confident and relaxed, the exact opposite of how he was feeling. Janice gave him an odd look, but didn't inquire any more deeply, for which Riddler was glad. If she had asked anymore questions, he was afraid he would have blurted out something stupid.

In his state of distraction, he almost didn't notice that they had come upon the production line. Everything was eerily still; the packages where the computer equipment was being prepared for shipping were lying open at the end of it. Riddler smirked; it was a veritable _goldmine _for someone like him. He could probably find everything he needed to finish the machine.

Beelining for the production line itself, he nodded towards the endless pile of boxes stacked at the end.

"You check those. If there's anything worth grabbing, let me know." he said to Janice. Grudgingly, she walked over to the boxes and began rifling through them.

"It would help if I knew what, exactly, I was looking for." she called, unpacking the boxes and picking through the parts. Riddler sighed.

"You know enough about computers. Just grab anything that looks useful. I'm sure you'll find a use for anything I don't need." he replied, making his way down the production line and grabbing things from the conveyor belt. Janice started opening more boxes, giving each item she came across a quick once-over and either tossing it into her bag or throwing it back into its box. They would have accomplished their goal in record time, had Riddler not accidentally backed into the motion-sensitive laser placed strategically around the production line.

The siren blared, making their ears ring and causing red lights to go off. Both of them cursed under their breath, and Janice jumped up, headed for the exit. Riddler, however, stayed behind and continued grabbing parts, though at a much faster rate than before. Noticing her wasn't with her, she stopped and turned back.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled. "We've got to get out of here! The Bats'll be here any minute!"

"There's only a few more things I need, go ahead without me!" he yelled back over the blasting siren.

"Damnit, Riddler! Get your anorexic feminine ass in gear!" she yelled.

"I _said_leave without me!"

"_No_, damnit, get over here!"

"Sorry, but nobody is going anywhere. Except to Arkham."

Both of them whirled around towards the entrance, their argument temporarily forgotten at the sight of Batman, Robin, and Batgirl standing there. They turned towards each other, and exchanged a small nod. Janice fell into a fighting stance and Riddler raised his staff defensively.

"Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way." Robin said, pulling out his staff. Batgirl nodded in agreement and raised her fists, ready for a fight. Janice chuckled in amusement.

"You guys think you'll be able to beat _me_?" she laughed. "Yeah right." Robin and Batgirl growled in response as she giggled at them.

"She's just trying to get you riled up. Don't pay attention to her; you'll end up losing." Batman warned. Janice chuckled again.

"Don't get their hopes up, Bat-breath. They're going to lose anyways." she said.

"Says you!" Robin yelled, rushing forwards to strike her with his staff. She easily blocked, deflecting the first strike with her forearm and then grabbing the staff with her other hand. She twisted it out of his grip and struck him upside the head with it, dazing him. She then grabbed him by the front of his costume and threw him over the conveyor belt, making him land in a pile of discarded scrap metal.

"So," she said, gesturing for the other two to come forwards. "who's next?" In response, Batgirl charged forwards. Janice easily maneuvered out of the way of her first punch, causing her to strike the air blindly, then joined her two arms by the hands and elbowed Batgirl in the face. She was about to strike her again while she was dazed, when a cord wrapped around her, holding her tight. She cursed and tried to squirm out of it, to no avail.

"You two will have plenty of time to settle your differences when you're both behind bars at Arkham." Batman said. Janice glared at him, still trying to loosen the cord he had fired at her.

"I'm not too crazy about that idea, personally." Riddler said, taking a few steps forward from his place beside the conveyor belt. "I spend enough time with her already; I'd rather not be locked up with her in a hell hole like that." In one sudden motion, before Batman could do anything, Riddler rushed forwards and, using the sharp curve of his staff, severed the cord around Janice. The rope still around her fell off uselessly, and she grabbed Batgirl and threw her over the conveyor belt alongside Robin. She then turned to Riddler.

"Thanks." she mumbled grudgingly. They then both turned towards Batman, each wearing their own malicious grin. "Look who's the last man standing." Janice grinned.

"Ladies first." Riddler held out his arms in invitation for her to go ahead with the fight, and she cracked her knuckles.

"Sure, make _me_ do all the hard work." she grumbled. Batman fell into a defensive position, but before he could react, she rushed forwards, delivering a punishing roundhouse kick to his ribs, this time _surely_ breaking at least one, or so she hoped. When he had to stop and catch himself from keeling over in pain, she grabbed him by the ears of his cowl, and brought his head down to a sufficient level to smash it over her knee, breaking his nose (or so she could assume from the blood gushing from it) and utterly dazing him. She dropped his limp form onto the ground and dusted off her hands. "Can we go now, before one of these losers wakes up?" she asked.

"Don't worry, we have plenty of time before that happens." Riddler assured her. Janice rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to protest when the sound of approaching sirens startled them both into silence, and without another word, they slipped silently out the back entrance of the factory.

* * *

><p>Janice sat at the kitchen table, her head buried in her arms in her exhaustion, while Riddler sat on the couch, grumbling as he sorted the parts sitting on the coffee table in front of him. She hadn't actually been listening to him, instead choosing to wait for her painkillers to take effect and end her horrible pounding headache, but had gathered that the general subject of his complaints was the fact that he hadn't gotten all of the parts he needed for whatever it was he was building.<p>

"You know, if you had done your job just slightly better, we _might_ have been able to pull this off." he grumbled, tossing the part he was looking at back into the pile in frustration. Her head immediately jerked up in response to his comment.

"_What_? If _I_ had done my job slightly better? What about _you_?" she hissed, twisting around in her chair so she was mostly facing him. "Oh, _that's_ right. You didn't have a job. You're the almighty Riddler; you just have to sit on your skinny ass and yell orders in my ear!" She jumped out of her seat and took a few steps towards him, her teeth bared in a snarl. He turned and narrowed his eyes at her, standing as well.

"Now see here—" he started, but she quickly cut him off by jabbing a finger in his face.

"No, _you_ see here! You nearly got us caught tonight, all because you couldn't resist finishing your stupid machine! You're a greedy, selfish, and _idiotic_ bastard! It's no wonder the Bats have thrown you into Arkham so many times!" she yelled, delivering a quick poke to his chest after the end of each exclamation, for added emphasis.

"Is that so? Well, if you think I'm all of those things, why not kick me out? Why not go off on your own?" he asked, taking a few steps forwards and forcing her to step back. "It's because you've grown to depend on me, Janice, or at least your Question Mark persona has. And if you're not willing to risk getting caught, you shouldn't be wasting your time trying to make it as a criminal in Gotham." She looked like she was about to rebuttal, so he took another step forwards, so that their bodies were actually touching. Her response to this was to try to back away again, but instead of doing so, her heel caught on the divider between the hardwood floor of the living area and the linoleum tile of the kitchen, causing her to fall backwards. Instead of offering her a hand, Riddler merely stood there, crossing his arms and looking completely unamused, although he felt like grinning triumphantly. When Janice managed to rise to her feet he noticed she had turned a brilliant shade of carmine, and she turned on her heel, making a hasty retreat into the kitchen, mumbling the whole time. He couldn't catch exactly what she was saying, but his name and a variety of curses happened to pop up in the same breath, something he wasn't very surprised by. What he _was_ surprised by was how docile and easily flustered Janice seemed to be lately. It was true that he hadn't known her for long, but in the time that he _did, _she had never once blushed or looked to be at anything other than the peak of composure. Now it seemed like every time he opened his mouth to talk to her, she turned some shade of red and ran away from him.

Riddler pinched the ridge of his nose and stumbled back to the couch. Who was he to try and figure out the mindset of a woman whom he barely understood? And who, he reminded himself, was likely to break his bones if he tried.

* * *

><p>Janice turned the shower off and sighed, brushing her wet hair back. She reached through the shower curtain and grabbed a towel from the nearby rack, pulling it around herself and stepping out onto the bathmat. She pulled herself over to the fogged up mirror and wiped it relatively clear with the bottom of the towel, and glared at her own reflection. Her cheeks were still a brilliant shade of crimson, and not because of the heat of her shower. It had been almost 20 minutes since her argument with Riddler; how did he have the power to make her so embarrassed all the time? It wasn't like she had any reason to be embarrassed around him. Sure, he was handsome, despite his feminine appearance, and charming, in his own freakish way, not to mention his staggering intelligence. But this didn't mean anything to her. He was still the same vile, despicable person she had the horrible sense to continue working for. It just seemed that lately, she was far more sensitive to his mocking.<p>

"Get it together, Janice. Don't let Riddler get to you. The more flustered you get, the more enjoyment he gets out of it." she muttered to herself, turning on the cold water from her sink. She let a handful poor into her cupped hands and splashed it over her face, trying to cool it down. For once, she wanted to see _Riddler_ get flustered and speechless, see his pasty white skin turn bright red, have him completely tongue-tied.

A rather malicious grin spread across her face and she straightened up, dabbing her face dry with her towel and putting her hair behind her ears. That sounded _quite_ appealing, and she knew exactly how she was going to pull it off. She readjusted her towel so it was sitting slightly lower on her chest and tucked it into itself so she wouldn't have to hold it up, and put her hands on her hips, giving herself a once over in the mirror.

Yeah, that was definitely going to work. Riddler was still a _man_, after all. A man who was at least _slightly_ interested in women- he'd been staring at her ass, after all.

* * *

><p>"Hey, have you seen my bathrobe?"<p>

Riddler didn't look up from the parts scattered on the table when he heard the bedroom door slam, but he dared a casual glance at the sound of the question. And was rather astonished by the sight that greeted him.

Janice stood there, like he had expected, but she was wearing severely less clothing than he had imagined. In fact, the only thing she was wearing was a bath towel draped shamelessly across her athletic form, and even then, it barely covered everything it needed to. She either didn't notice or didn't care that it didn't sufficiently cover her chest as she looked around, seemingly searching for her bathrobe. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to form the words needed to answer, but they caught in his throat each time. He wasn't sure he wasn't babbling like an idiot, because his brain refused to function long enough to let him hear what was going on, but from Janice's amused grin, he could only guess that he was.

"So, princess. Bathrobe. Seen it or not?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips in annoyance. The insult didn't register as her rather melodramatic new pose caused the towel to slip just a fraction of an inch lower. She chuckled at his slack-jawed expression again, then looked around the room, and beelined for the chair in the far corner. "Never mind, got it. Thanks for the help. Not." she said, grabbing it and sticking her tongue out at him as she went back to the bedroom and bathroom contained within.

He sat there, staring off into space in disbelief, trying to force his brain to work again, and simply sat there for a while. Approximately a half hour, in fact, before he heard the door open and close again, and Janice came out again, although this time she was sufficiently clothed. And wasn't really _Janice_, per say, because she was once again wearing her Question Mark outfit.

"So, if I go and get your stupid parts, will you stop bitching at me?" she asked. "Or are you just going to sit there looking like a fish out of water?" The haze lifted instantly and he cleared his throat, standing up.

"Let's just...get this over with."


	6. Repetition

**A/N:** If you're still reading this, I thank you. Ever so slowly we're nearing the end of this fic, which makes me both sad and happy. Don't worry, though; for those of you who, for whatever reason, actually _like_ my writing, there's plenty more where this comes from. Like...30 more. Or some ridiculous number like that. And that's just the main time-line, never mind AU's, one-shots, or anything else I happen to feel like writing. But that's the great thing about the Crackverse; it never ends. You'll see that soon enough. But until then, let's just get on with the EGR, shall we?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

_Repetition_

Two police cars sped by the alley, sirens wailing, and Janice ducked back into the shadows to avoid detection. No doubt they were on their way to join their fellow officers at the factory, only to receive the surprise of their careers when all they would find would be three semi-conscious Bats. She smirked to herself and peered out of the alley, looking left and right. When she was sure the coast was clear, she darted silently across the street, headed for the other side of the industrial district, to the only other major computer manufacturing plant in Gotham. The parts unique to the other factory had, luckily, been accounted for in what they had managed to grab before they were interrupted, so now it was just a matter of getting the more generic equipment. She reached the gate of the building and easily climbed the fence, no guards in sight; the owners either hadn't realized they'd set up business in Gotham, or they'd just given up hope for being able to escape the eternal crime wave the city was plagued by, and just didn't want to waste the money to upgrade their facilities. Either way, it boded well for her, so she didn't question it. The door was locked, but she remedied that by finding a window and smashing it open. It didn't seem to trigger any sort of alarm, and Janice scoffed at how pathetic their security was. She slipped silently into the production area and began helping herself to the nicely packaged products. She knew exactly what Riddler needed, and was able to grab it all in a matter of minutes. As she clambered back out the broken window and easily scaled the fence, headed back towards their (her, she reminded herself, Riddler was just living their for the sake of convenience, it didn't mean he had any claim over the place) apartment, she smirked to herself. How _easy_ it was to do this when she didn't have Riddler there to get in her way!

_Maybe I _do_ have what it takes to make it on my own..._ she thought. _I'm smart, maybe not as smart as he is, but I've clearly got more _skill_ than he does..._ She shook her head, trying to banish those kinds of thoughts. There was no use getting her hopes up; she was stuck with him. She didn't even think about why the thought of ending their partnership made her uneasy, because, quite frankly, she didn't want to know the answer.

* * *

><p>"—and in other news, a recent streak of technological robberies has been confirmed to have been committed by the notorious villain known as the Riddler, who escaped from Arkham Asylum earlier this month. Riddler is also reported to be working with an unidentified woman calling herself Question Mark. These criminals are to be considered dangerous and hostile, and any information on their whereabouts should be reported to the police as soon as possible."<p>

Hearing the door open, Riddler reached for the remote and turned off the television, with a smile plastered firmly on his face. Janice walked in, tossing her bag onto the table in front of him, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

"What're _you_ so happy about?" she asked, pulling her mask off and stuffing it into her jean pocket. His smile faded to an exasperated expression.

"Nothing _you_ need to worry about." he sighed. "Did you get all of it?" he asked, with a slight air of disbelief, sure that she couldn't possibly have accomplished in less than an hour what it had taken him days to plan. She nodded at the bag.

"Yeah." she replied confidently. He opened the bag and emptied the contents onto the table, sifting through it, and, at the same time, reviewing his mental checklist. He was more than a little surprised to see all of the parts present and accounted for. He sat there in silence for a minute, looking at the inventory in shock.

"Well...so you did." he said. "Good work. You're a good partner, _Question Mark_." Janice looked at him with wide eyes, frozen in shock. He didn't even register why she was so surprised until he thought back on what he had said and mentally slapped himself.

"What is _with_ you?" she asked. "Are you having mood swings or something? Do you have a fever?"

"I'm giving you a compliment and you act like it's the apocalypse. Would you rather I insult you?"| he asked. She rolled her eyes.

"That sounds more like you, at least." she muttered. "So I've gotten all _that_ junk, what now?" she asked. Riddler thought for a moment.

"I need a few more things, things you would find at an ordinary computer store," he replied. "but I also need a copy of an experimental program." She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Let me guess." she said. "It can only be found at one high-security location?"

"When you're a supervillain in Gotham, everything you need is." he replied with an exasperated sigh. Janice sighed in turn and sat in the armchair across from the couch.

"Well, you get to work planning how to get that, and I'll get the other stuff you need tomorrow." she said with a yawn. He nodded towards the clock on the oven.

"Today." he corrected, watching as the clock advanced a minute to 1:04 AM. Janice looked back over her shoulder and groaned.

"What's the point of even going to sleep now?" she asked. "I don't even have 4 hours to sleep."

"It's better than nothing." he pointed out, sorting out the parts almost subconsciously. "Why don't you just take the day off?" he asked.

"They don't really appreciate substitute teachers taking days off, and I can't afford to lose another job." she replied, settling back into her chair.

"Tell them you're sick. I'm sure you'll have no trouble convincing them that you are." he said. She sat up straight.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. He looked up from the parts in confusion.

"Nothing." he replied. "You've just been looking a little off color lately." Janice was surprised by the answer, and once again settled back into her chair, curling up slightly. She didn't speak for a few moments.

"Hey." she said. "Are we actually having a civil conversation?" she asked. He thought about it for a moment.

"I guess we are." he replied. "That's certainly a change." There was an awkward silence, broken only when Janice rose from her chair.

"Maybe I _should_ try to get some sleep." she said. Riddler cleared his throat and nodded, unsure of how else to reply as she quickly ducked around the corner and into her bedroom, closing and locking the door. Riddler sighed and pushed his work away, lying on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling above. He massaged his forehead, feeling the strong, steady pulse of an oncoming headache, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the world around him. Normally he _enjoyed_ trying to solve mysteries, figuring out riddles and puzzles, but this one was just _too_ confusing for him. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what had been going on lately; first Janice had started getting so easily flustered around him, then his own mind had started to go, making him think rather..._inappropriate_ thoughts about her. And now they rarely argued. Perhaps it was just a general progression of their relationship; they were, after all, _partners_, as much as he hated to admit it, and their particular field demanded impeccable teamwork in order to avoid capture. But he couldn't help but think that wasn't the whole reason. There are something bubbling there, just below the surface, and though he had an idea of what it was, he didn't want to think about it. There was no way he was going to accept it, no way he _could_, not if he wanted to keep himself from getting hurt.

He couldn't fall for her. There was no way he was going to let another woman get close enough to hurt him.

* * *

><p>Janice yawned loudly as her class filed in, talking loudly, far too energetic for this early in the morning. She glared at them, discreetly yet disdainfully, wishing she could have the same amount of energy they did at the moment. Sleep had been non-existent in the few hours she'd had to get it, and if anything, she had only made herself <em>more<em> tired by tossing and turning, wondering when the hell she'd lost her ability to face Riddler. The man _himself_ was no more intimidating, but she was much more intimidated _by_ him. And she'd never been intimidated by _anyone_ before. Maybe Riddler was right; maybe she _was_ sick, and this was all just fever induced.

Yes, that had to be it. She was just delusional and loopy. Because there was no way on Hell or Earth she was growing to _like_ Riddler, not in any way, shape, or form. Nope, no way. Her desperation for his approval, how flustered she got by all of his little jabs, the way she didn't know whether to feel triumphant or punch him in the face whenever she caught him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, none of that meant anything, because she obviously wasn't in her right mind.

Raising her hand to her forehead to check for any sign of a tell-tale fever, she almost didn't notice that her entire class was now seated, and Barbara Gordon had her hand raised. She dropped her hand to the desk with a sigh and nodded towards her in acknowledgment.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but are we just gonna sit here all period?" she asked, inciting a groan from some of the other students. Janice leaned her head back with a similar groan, trying to ignore her exhaustion-induced double vision. She then stood up dizzily and pulled out her bag, digging through the contents. After a minute she produced a DVD, and tossed it onto her desk.

"Here, you guys can watch this." she said. "You two, go and get a TV from the AV office. Barbara, you're in charge, and if anyone asks, I just stepped out for a second." she instructed. Barbara mock saluted.

"Yes, ma'am." she said, as the two students Janice pointed to jumped out of their seats and darted out of the classroom. Janice rolled her eyes and pulled on her coat, shouldering her canvas bag.

"I should be back by the end of the class. If I'm not, feel free to dismiss yourselves." she said, yawning and looking at her watch. Without another word, she hurried out of the classroom, knowing she didn't have a lot of time to accomplish what she was setting out to do. She slipped silently out the side entrance of the school, where the teachers went to smoke during their free periods, hoping to escape the notice of Jonathan or the rest of the staff, knowing she'd be given hell for leaving her class. She made her way quickly to the nearest bus stop and caught the bus she knew would take her downtown. She got off near the shopping district and quickly made her way towards her preferred computer store, mentally reviewing the list Riddler had shown her. The store was sort of off the beaten path, the entrance located down the alley between a clothing store, in the back of which the store was located, and a quaint restaurant. She slipped into the store, and the pimply-faced teenager behind the counter looked up in surprise, probably shocked that anyone had been able to find them.

"Uh...c-can I h-help you?" he asked, gulping, no doubt staring at her breasts. She tried to force herself to be polite in spite of her current less-then-sunny disposition, and smiled at him.

"No thanks." she replied. "I think I can find everything I need on my own. But if I need your help, I'll let you know." He looked down at the counter.

"Oh. OK." he said, sounding disappointed. Janice tried to ignore him and made her way strategically around the store, grabbing everything from Riddler's rather sizable list. It didn't take her long to amass all of it; it was all more commonplace than she'd imagined, and being a loyal customer for many years, she knew exactly where everything was. When she brought the armload of merchandise to the counter, the employee looked at the small mountain of computer equipment, then at her, in disbelief. She leaned on the counter slightly, using her arm to support herself, and tapped her nails on the imitation wood impatiently. "A-are you sure about all of this, ma'am? Some of this stuff is extremely c-complicated." he said, biting his lower lip. She clenched her fist and glared at him.

"_Excuse_ me? What're you, like, 12 or some shit like that? I've been doing this since I was _5_. You were probably still in _diapers_ by the time I could build my own computer. Now shut the fuck up and ring up what I want to buy." she hissed. The teenager froze, squeaking in terror, and quickly scanned all of the objects, throwing them into bags. When he had finished, she pulled out her wallet and tossed the required amount onto the counter and put the newly-purchased computer equipment into her bag. Knowing she had to get her job done quickly, she didn't bother waiting for her change, and made her way back to the bus stop. She got on the bus headed for the nearby business district, the economic powerhouse of Gotham, which housed such landmarks as the head offices of Wayne Enterprises, Neugog Chemicals, and most importantly Reyner Corp., the technological emperor of the city. She kept her eye on the tall building situated amongst the many other tall buildings, proudly reading 'Reyner'. She tugged on the cord, signaling the bus to pull in to the curb and stop, the doors opening. She jumped out and hurried into the building, trying to make it look like she was late for an appointment. When she entered the crisp, clean lobby, the dapper-looking man behind the counter looked up at her.

"Good morning, ma'am. May I help you?" he asked politely. She smiled as sincerely as she could with her sour mood.

"Yes, I'm here to see the director of research." she lied, still smiling. "I have an appointment about the job opening." The man was baffled by her answer, and for a minute he couldn't formulate a reply.

"Ah...y-yes, well then. I'll just go and get him for you." he said, sounding flustered. Turning towards the door sort of hidden in the wall behind him, he flipped open a small glass case, revealing a numerical keypad. Seemingly forgetting she was there, or perhaps thinking there was no way she'd be able to remember the code, he began entering a long sequence of numbers. As his fingers danced swiftly over the numbers, she watched, remembering every one. When he finished, the door unlocked with a sharp _click_, and he turned towards her.

"Please wait here, ma'am. I'll only be a minute." he said. Janice nodded, and he went into what looked to be a long hallway, closing the door behind him, which seemed to automatically lock. Once she was sure he wasn't coming back anytime soon, she adjusted the strap on her bad, and with a smirk, turned and left.

* * *

><p>Barbara looked up from ejecting the finished DVD to see Janice standing in the door, looking slightly winded, her hair a complete mess. She flattened it hastily and sat behind her desk, catching her breath as Barbara put the DVD back in its case.<p>

"Tired, teach?" she asked, tossing the DVD onto the desk. Janice looked at her with bloodshot eyes and gave her a look that said 'No shit, Sherlock'. She brushed some stray hair from her eyes and shut them tightly, putting her hand to her forehead.

"The rest of the period is free." she mumbled, and a small cheer arose from the class. Barbara turned around and grabbed a chair, pulling it up to Janice's desk as everyone pulled out iPod's and books and playing cards, chatting animatedly. Janice gave her an odd look, but she ignored it. "Why are you _here_?" she asked with a sigh. "It's a free period. Shoo."

"I just wanna ask what's wrong." Barbara said. "You seem kind of..._blah_ right now." Janice sighed again, this time less in exasperation and more in depression and exhaustion.

"Everything's wrong, Barbara." she replied. "I have a really annoying person living with me right now, and the situation's gotten confusing. Not to mention I don't have nearly enough time to sleep at night, and my _other_ job keeps me on my toes so much that I'm always tired." she explained, Barbara listening intently to her every word. Janice knew that it was sort of risky to hint at her 'secret life', especially to the commissioner's daughter, but it was better than not talking to _anyone_ about it. She was sure Barbara wouldn't be able to figure it out, anyways. It wasn't like there was anything suspicious about a single substitute teacher working two jobs.

Of course, she didn't know that Barbara had been trained to be suspicious of _everything_.

"Sounds like you've got it tough, Ms. Michaels." Barbara said, trying to sound as natural as possible. Janice's head snapped up at the sudden voice change, which didn't escape either of their notices. They sat there in silence for a minute, having a sort of face-off, before Barbara cleared her throat. "So, uh...why'd you leave?" she asked, suspicion flavoring her words. Janice leaned back, trying to look confident, although she was quite worried by her sudden suspicion.

"I went to pick up something for a friend of mine." she replied, praying that Barbara didn't notice the way her voice cracked. Unfortunately, by the way Barbara was looking at her, she could only guess she _had_, which wasn't good for her current situation. "The person living with me." she added.

"So the person living with you is your friend now?" Barbara asked. "Earlier you said they were really annoying." she pointed out.

"So? Just because I call them annoying, doesn't mean they can't also be my friend." Janice pointed out in reply. Barbara was about to rebuttal, when the bell signaling the end of the period rang. Janice gave her a smug grin. "Well, looks like we'll have to cut our conversation short. Unless you want to be late for your next class." Barbara gave her a small glare laced with suspicion.

"Yeah, guess so." she said, turning back towards her desk to grab her things. "Later, _Ms. Michaels_." she said sarcastically. Grabbing her book, she stormed out of the room, the other students glancing at her quizzically. Janice's smile quickly faded as the realization of what had just happened sank in. Someone was suspicious of her. It, of course, didn't mean they were suspicious of her being Question Mark, but it was bad enough, especially since it was the daughter of the commissioner of police. She's have to be very careful around her from now on, to make sure she didn't figure out the truth.

Unfortunately, she was already beginning to.

* * *

><p>The door slammed, and Riddler looked up from his green compact, which he was using to touch up his eyeshadow. He watched as Janice stormed into the room, beelined for the kitchen, and pulled out a glass, grabbing a carton of milk from the fridge. She quickly poured and downed the glass of milk, then tossed the glass into the sink, not caring that it shattered.<p>

"Something wrong?" he asked, somewhat sarcastically. She mumbled incoherently.

"Yes, Edward, something's wrong." she replied through clenched teeth. "What's _wrong_ is that one of my students is getting suspicious because of all of this shit you have me running around doing. I think she might have started to realize that I'm Question Mark." she explained. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"So what?" he asked. She turned towards him, glaring.

"_So what?_" she hissed. "So she's the daughter of the commissioner of police, that's what. So, with enough evidence, she could have me investigated, and subsequently _arrested,_ that's what. Meaning you would most likely get arrested, too." Her voice continuously rose in pitch and severity as she spoke, making her sound slightly hysterical. Riddler blinked at her a few times in surprise, a bit concerned about her current mental state.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked. Her glare intensified.

"Why do _you_ care?" she asked, crossing her arms angrily.

"Because you're acting strangely, that's why." he replied. She sighed.

"I dunno. I think I might be sick." she replied. Riddler rose to his feet and walked over to her.

"Do you have a fever?" he asked.

"Not that I know of." she replied. "I mean,I _thought_ I did, but I couldn't feel one." He raised one of his hands slightly.

"Here, let me feel." he said. She looked at him quizzically, but didn't do anything in retaliation when he put his pale hand to her dark forehead, putting his other hand on his own forehead for comparison. "Hm, you _do_ feel a _little_ warm. Maybe you should go lie down." he suggested. Her expression changed from mildly curious to completely in shock.

"Who are you and what have you done with the bastard I live with?" she asked, swatting his hand away. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm only trying to be considerate." he replied.

"Since when have _you_ been concerned about being considerate?" she asked, taking a step backwards, feeling nervous about Riddler's proximity. "You're the one who always goes out of your way to insult me." she pointed out.

"I figured that, as long as we're working together, I might as well try to be civil." he replied with a small shrug. "I don't know why you're making such a big deal of it."

"I'm making a big deal out of it because it's _weird_." she replied.

"Why is it weird?" he asked. "Just because you're seeing a side of me that I've never shown you before?"

"Because _you're_ weird, because _everything_ about _us_ is weird!" she replied, massaging her temples. At hearing the word 'us', Riddler's eyes widened slightly in shock, just enough to be noticeable. It took Janice a minute to realize why he was looking at her with such an expression, and when she did, she turned a slight shade of rose and glared at him as menacingly as she could while blushing. He easily understood the meaning of the look and coughed contrivedly, turning away and returning to the couch.

"So, did you, um, get everything?" he asked, feeling his own face grow warm. She opened her shoulder bag, pulled out from the computer store, and threw them at him, hoping they would collide and cause some sort of pain. Disappointingly, Riddler was able to catch them, and pulled out all of their contents, placing them with everything they had so far stolen. "Perfect. And the entrance code?" he asked. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." she muttered. "But what about the commissioner's daughter?" she asked. Riddler waved his hand in dismissal.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure it won't be a problem." he assured her. "That is, so long as you watch your tongue." he said snarkily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Janice smile for a brief moment, before her expression turned sour once more. She looked like she wanted to argue, but she held her tongue, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"OK, I give." she surrendered. "What's the game plan, boss?"

Riddler smirked.

* * *

><p>The night (though technically the very early morning) was painfully still and quiet, and the well-worn streets of the usually crowded business district were eerily devoid of life. Only two figures dared to bear the crisp autumn darkness, confident in their ability to hide in the shadows and avoid the watchful gaze of the Batman.<p>

The front door to the Reyner building, in spite of its advanced security system, was easily opened by Riddler. The two then entered, carefully avoiding being detected by the security cameras, and slipped around the desk. Janice flipped open the glass cover of the keypad and, easily remembering every number of the horrendously long code, quickly opened the door leading into the research and development part of the building. Quietly and efficiently, they prowled the long hallway, checking every room they came to for a computer terminal. They eventually found what they knew must be the development room; a long room full of small, cubicle-like desks with a total of 20 or so computers. Riddler seated himself at the first one he came to and twisted off the bottom of his staff, revealing a small, hollow compartment at the base. He tipped the contents, a single flash drive, into his hand. He booted up the computer as he plugged in the flash drive and, going through files almost too fast for Janice to see, quickly located the files for the program he needed. As the program started to copy onto the flash drive, he turned to Janice.

"Go and check to see if there are any guards." he instructed. She narrowed her eyes at his commanding tone of voice.

"What am I, your slave?" she hissed. Behind his mask, Riddler rolled his eyes.

"No, you're my _subordinate_." he replied in an exasperated tone of voice, all too used to her complaints. "And _as_ my subordinate, you're obligated to listen to what I tell you. So just...go check for guards, Janice." She sneered at him, but didn't argue. Instead she muttered incoherently under her breath as she made her way back towards the door.

"Why do _I _have to do all the work?" she muttered, just loud enough for Riddler to hear. He sighed in exasperation and shook his head, wondering how, exactly, this partnership had lasted so long.

* * *

><p>Janice continued to mutter under her breath, half complaining, half simply talking to herself, as she made her way further down the hallway, headed for a junction. So far there was no sign of any guards, and she started to wonder why every company in Gotham seemed to either be overly confident in their ability to keep their assets safe, or completely stupid.<p>

"Seriously, where are all the _guards_? There's no way they just left everything unprotected." she mumbled to herself, as she reached the junction and carefully looked down both hallways, making sure her words weren't going to come back to bite her. Luckily, it didn't seem like they were going to; both directions were just as deserted as the hallway she'd come from. Taking the left fork, she continued her pointless search for guards, and was just about to give up and head back to Riddler when she felt a presence directly behind her. She whirled around to see what it was, but found the hall abandoned. She sighed. "You're losing it, girl. There's no one here. The entire place is abandoned."

"I'm not so sure about that."

Janice whirled around again, towards the sound of the voice, and was met with a solid punch to the stomach. She stumbled backwards, slightly doubled over, and looked up at her surprise assailant, who was none other than Batgirl. The young woman stood there, her hands on her hips, with a smug grin on her face.

"Why, you—" Janice hissed.

"—just completely owned you? Why yes, yes I did." Batgirl mocked, crossing her arms and cocking her head, still smirking smugly. Janice stood upright, ignoring the pain in her stomach, and cracked her knuckled menacingly.

"You're going to regret that, kid. You're _vastly_ out of your league." she growled. "Maybe you should come back when you _can't_ count your age on two hands." Batgirl stuck her tongue out at her.

"I may be _young_, but at least I'm not an old _hag_ like you." she said. Immediately, Janice snapped, rushing at her. Batgirl barely had enough time to put her forearms up to keep the first punch from breaking her nose, and _didn't_ have enough time to block the second devastating punch to her stomach. Janice took the opportunity to do a sweep, knocking Batgirl's legs out from under her, sending her to the floor. She crouched down by her, and grabbed her by the front of her costume, poised to punch her in the face. Batgirl took her by surprise, however, by swiftly grabbing her forearm and twisting it, forcing her to let go. Batgirl quickly jumped up and away, and Janice did the same.

"Not bad." Janice admitted. "For a brat." Batgirl sneered.

"Face it, Question Mark; _you're_ the one who's out of your league." she said. "You and Riddler'll _never_ beat us." she boasted.

"We already did, or were you not paying attention last night?" Janice asked.

"You may have gotten away _then_," Batgirl replied. "but we'll just keep coming back until both of you loonies are in Arkham where you belong."

"Loonies?" Janice exclaimed, rushing forwards. She tried to deliver a strong punch to her face, but Batgirl easily dodged. "Don't lump he in with Riddler; I'm not like him!" she yelled, trying to hit Batgirl again, several times in succession. Each of her strikes were easily blocked.

"Then why are you working with him?" Batgirl asked, ducking out of the way of another punch, simultaneously trying to roundhouse kick her. Janice, however, wasn't about to allow that, and grabbed Barbara's foot mid-kick, twisting it around painfully and making her cry out. She then used her distraction as an opportunity to grab her and throw her roughly against one of the walls in the narrow corridor, causing her to crack her head. Batgirl hissed in pain and tried to rid herself of her double vision, stumbling dizzily.

"I have my reasons." she replied. "Ones beyond _your_ comprehension."

"How can _anything_ make it worthwhile to ruin your life like this?" Batgirl asked dazedly. Janice dropped her defensive position, looking unsure.

"It-It's complicated." she replied. "But why do _you_ care? Just go crawling back to your cave, or wherever it is you three hang out when you're not playing dress-up!" Janice snapped. Starting to recover from the sharp blow to the head, Batgirl tried to land another blow on Janice, but she easily dodged, grabbing her clenched fist when she was at the zenith of the punch. Janice yanked her downwards and kneed her sharply in the stomach. She then pushed her aside, causing her to land roughly in a heap against the wall. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words caught in her throat, and both of their heads snapped in the direction of the hallway Janice had come from, at the sound of a loud crash. Janice froze when she realized it had come from the computer lab Riddler was in. "Damnit, Riddler!" she hissed. Batgirl jumped up almost at the same moment.

"Batman and Robin!" she exclaimed in a worried tone. Janice's heart clenched inexplicably when she realized that Riddler was single-handedly fighting both Batman and Robin, and she took off running towards that room. She heard Batgirl following her, and spun around to deliver a punishing kick to her chest, knocking the breath out of her lungs. She fell back, unable to catch her breath, and Janice managed to get a good lead. When she rounded the corner, the first thing she noticed was that the door to the computer lab was wide open, and sounds of a struggle were drifting from the room. She quickly ran into the room to see Riddler blocking a strike from Robin while simultaneously trying to fend off Batman. None of them realized her presence, completely absorbed in their brawl, and she used this to her advantage, striking Batman sharply on the back of the head. Mostly unfazed by the sudden attack, Batman whirled around to see his assailant, which also distracted Robin, allowing Riddler to back away from the two do-gooders.

"Two against one's a little unfair for so called _heroes_, dont'cha think?" she asked, making sure she was a fair distance away from both of them.

"You're one to talk." Robin said with a growl, prepping himself. She fell into a defensive position as Batman turned back towards Riddler, standing back-to-back with Robin.

"Not so fast, Question Mark." said someone from the doorway. Although she already was sure who it was, Janice turned towards the door, to see Batgirl, who had finally recovered. "I'm not done with you yet." Janice narrowed her eyes and turned towards her, completely ignoring Robin, clenching her fists.

"If that's how you want it, kid, suit yourself." she replied. "It's your fault if you get hurt." Batgirl rushed forwards, jumped, and tried to smash her sharp heels into Janice's torso, but Janice quickly dodged at the last possible moment, causing Batgirl to land uncertainly with a small stumble. Janice used the opportunity to deliver a sharp blow to the hollow of her cheek.

"J—Question Mark!" Riddler called, fighting off both Batman and Robin once again. They were slowly pushing him towards the far wall, trying to trap him, and there was very little he could do about it. "I could use your help over here!" he cried, his voice an octave or so higher than normal.

"I'm a little _busy_ here!" she said, taking another swing at Batgirl. Riddler tried to push Batman and Robin back, but to no avail; Batman and Robin managed to get _him_ back another couple of steps with a few well-blocked attacks. He twisted his staff around, trying to land a lucky blow, but Batman blocked it with the protrusions on his gloves, then twisted it in the opposite direction, trapping Riddler between the two of them and the desk. Before he could do anything, Robin jumped up on the desk behind him, and struck him in the back of the head with his staff, dazing him. Batman grabbed Riddler's staff and twisted it out of his grip, taking advantage of the daze, and Robin struck him again, sending him sprawling. He groaned as Robin stood over him triumphantly, and Batman merely loomed above him darkly.

"It's over, Riddler." Batman said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and crouching down beside him. "It's back to Arkham for you." Riddler tried to focus enough to rebuttal, or better yet, _get away_, but he could feel warm blood seeping from where Robin had struck him, and the world was swimming. As Batman reached forwards to take his wrist, the world around him started to go dark, and he unceremoniously passed out.

Janice looked away from Batgirl for only a moment, hearing Riddler's end of the fight grow quiet. In the middle of feinting away from a poorly aimed punch, she looked over to see Batman crouching beside what looked to be Riddler's prone form. Instantly, something snapped, and every thought in her mind cleared; the only thing she could think was _Save him_. When Batgirl tried to punch her again, she grabbed her fist, and with her other hand, grabbed her arm. She yanked downwards and forced her to the right, cracking her head on the side of one of the desks. She then lifted her dazed form and, swinging her around, tossed her into Batman and Robin. While the three of them were recovering, she rushed to Riddler's side, and put his arm around her shoulders so she could more easily carry him. She grabbed his staff and blindly hit one of the buttons on the hub, hoping it would be conductive to her escape. Luckily it was, creating a thick smokescreen, disorienting the Bats as they rose to their feet, and she took the chance to dart for the door, easily carrying Riddler because of his light weight.

When the smoke cleared, they were gone.


	7. All This Time

**A/N:** Since I already know I'm going to get yelled at for this, I'm going to put a warning right here so you can leave right now if you don't like it. (If you don't want the chapter to be spoiled for you, even though it's really obvious, just skip ahead to the chapter itself.)

If the past few chapters weren't an indication, **Riddler and Janice/Question Mark are going to be a couple.** If you don't like pairings involving fancharacters, pairings involving Riddler, or the Riddler/Janice pairing, I would just..._stop_ reading right now, because pretty much this entire chapter is about developing their relationship. If, however, you don't mind the idea of these two as a couple, feel free to keep reading. I _hope_ people like, or at least tolerate, these two; I've been trying very, very hard to develop their relationship in a believable manner. If you have **constructive** criticism, I'd _love _to hear it, although it won't affect the writing of the story, because by the time you guys see this, it'll already be done. And this being the second/third draft, I am _not_ going to rewrite it again. Not for a _very_ long time, at least. I have more important things to be doing and it's not like this is a published work; I wrote it for fun, for others' enjoyment, and, my number one reason for doing _anything_, because I can. If you don't like it, that's OK. As long as at least one other person gets some amusement from this story, I'm a happy panda.

Also, second warning: This chapter is *really fucking long*! As in '22 pages in a word document' long! I suggest taking multiple breaks while reading.

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

_All This Time_

When Riddler awoke the first thing he realized was that he was clearly no longer in the research and development room of Reyner Corp., the last place he remembered being before he had passed out. In fact, he seemed to be lying on some sort of soft surface, completely opposite from the cold, hard floor of the computer lab, covered by soft blankets. His head was still throbbing, but not with the same intensity as it had when he had first been struck. At first he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, afraid that the surroundings he'd find himself in would be the all too familiar medical bay of Arkham Asylum, but realizing the room lacked the familiar disinfectant stench, he lifted one weary eyelid ever so slightly.

No, definitely not the medical bay.

The room he was in was certainly _familiar_, but not in the same way. It was almost a comfort to him to see the familiar drab beige of the walls, the mahogany of the furniture, the pristine white bed trappings. Permission to access this room was usually denied to him for anything but absolute necessity, but he recognized it easily enough; it was Janice's bedroom, and he was resting in her bed. He felt something wrapped around his head, and found that someone, presumably Janice, had bandaged his head wound. Looking around, he saw a roll of bandages on the table beside him, and some already bloodstained ones deposited into the wastebasket. Clearly he had been unconscious far longer than he had thought.

Just as he was beginning to wonder what, exactly, had happened after he had been knocked out, the bedroom door opened, and standing there was Janice, holding a glass of water in one hand with a bottle of what looked to be painkillers held in the crook of her arm, the other hand holding the door open just enough for her to be able to see inside. When she noticed that he was quite clearly awake, she opened the door fully and entered the room, transferring the pill bottle to her now free hand.

"So, you're finally awake, are you?" she said, sounding incredibly tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair and clothes weren't in the best of shape. He wondered if it was because she had been taking care of him all this time, but he quickly dismissed the idea; there was no way she would have spent long enough taking care of him to become _that_ exhausted. It was more likely that she just hadn't gotten a good night's sleep because he had been occupying her bed, leaving her the rather uncomfortable couch. Of course, that formulated the question of why she had placed him in the bed, rather than on the couch, in the _first_ place, but he was already confused enough as it was, and didn't feel like thinking about it. He blinked wearily at her.

"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked. Janice thought about it for a moment.

"Mm, about 12 hours." she replied, brushing her hair back. "You must have gotten hit pretty hard, you had a nice, sizable wound that was bleeding a _lot_. Speaking of your head, I thought you might want some of these." She shook the pill bottle, making the contents rattle enticingly.

"If you're offering." he said, sitting up slightly. She walked over to him and moved over the roll of bandages, making room for the glass of water, and handed him the bottle. Riddler opened it and shook two pills into the palm of his hand, popping them both into his mouth at once and chased them down with the water. As he waited for them to take effect and rid him of the dull throbbing in his head, he turned towards her. "What _happened_?" he asked.

"Well, in summation, after you got knocked out, I had to save your sorry ass by dragging you out of there and stealing a car. _Then_ I had to sneak you up here. And I want you to know it was _hard_." she said. Riddler rolled his eyes at her.

"How many times do I have to say "it's just a part of the job" before you start to comprehend it?" he asked.

"A few more." she grumbled in reply. "But you really should be more careful. I may have a medical degree, but I won't always be around to get you out of situations like that. And if you'd had a concussion, you might never have woken up.. but I don't think you do. I suppose you know enough to know whether or not you do at this point, anyway." she said.

"I realize that, and I'll have you know I did quite well before I even _met_ you." he pointed out huffily. She chuckled.

"Suuuure you did, chief. That's why I met you in an asylum for the criminally insane. It makes perfect sense." she replied sarcastically. He glared at her, but his expression softened ever so slightly, and he sighed, knowing that she was at least _partially_ right. His previous accounts as a bona fide super villain had not gone so well; he was just too theatrical. Janice's realism kept him grounded, and they had so far achieved, as a team, much more than he had ever been able to alone. If not the kindest or most eloquent person, she was, at least, his ideal partner. He cleared his throat.

"Well, regardless, I, uh..." he paused mid-sentence, trying to think of what to say next, but settled for the simplest reply. "Thank you." She did a double take, trying to make sure she had heard that correctly.

"You're, uh, welcome...I guess..." she mumbled, shaking her head. She didn't even _want_ to know anymore. "Well, you should rest for a while longer, just to make sure your head's stopped bleeding. I'll be out in the living room." she said. Not bothering to wait for a reply, she turned away, and began walking back towards the door. Riddler watched her for only a fraction of a second before realizing what he was doing, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to accelerate the effects of the painkillers with the power of his mind. It didn't seem to work, so he tried to turn over so as to attempt to fall asleep for a while longer, and quickly discovered that wasn't a good idea. He didn't have a very good recollection of the fight last night; most of it was a blur, as fast-paced battles ending in his defeat usually _were_, but it was clear that the blow to the back of the head wasn't the only injury he had received, evidenced by the pain exploding in the right side of his ribcage as he tried to turn on his side. Surprised, he let out an agonized yell, and the response was instantaneous; Janice spun on her heel and rushed back to the side of the bed, worry clearly present in her eyes. She put one hand on his shoulder and the other hand on his opposite arm. "Edward, what's wrong?" she asked, for once her voice lacking its usual cutthroat edge. Riddler returned to his original lying position and let out a small, shuddering sigh, thankful for the sharp pain to be gone. It took a moment for him to realize that Janice was standing over him, and looked up at her, surprised at her sudden compassion. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words, so instead just settled for staring at her a while longer. Her eyes widened slightly when she realized what she was doing and immediately took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest and trying her hardest not to blush, which didn't succeed. Riddler blinked several times, then shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. There were a lot of things he wanted to say at the moment, but he tried to ignore most of them, and instead chose to say the worst possible thing he could have at that moment.

"You've got good reaction time." he said. "Is that a product of your medical training? Or were you just that worried about me?" he asked snarkily.

Janice snapped.

Giving Riddler no time to react, she took a step forwards, and slapped him soundly across the face. As she turned on her heel again, shrieking almost incomprehensible curses at him, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, he raised a hand to his now bright red cheek, which was stinging violently. His vision was swimming and his ears ringing from a mix of the force of the slap and his still pounding headache, and he laid his head on the pillow, waiting to regain the ability to focus. The pain took second place in his mind to what had just taken place. He should have been glad that Janice seemed to be back to her normal, violent self, but there was nothing _normal_ about what had just happened. Although he hadn't known her for very long, he could tell there was something strange about the way she was acting; she seemed so confident, so completely self-assured, and yet it barely took prompting for her to become flustered and vulnerable. When he had first noticed that she was acting strangely, he had thought it was just his imagination, but it was clear now that it wasn't. The only question remaining was _why_ she was acting that way.

Was it possible that Janice really _had_ fallen for him?

No. No, there was no way that could have happened. Janice hated him, that was apparent enough. She had hated him since they had first met.

But then, _why_?

Maybe the entire thing really _was_ a product of his imagination. Maybe Janice wasn't really acting differently at all.

Maybe he just wanted her to.

Riddler considered himself a rather sensible person, all things considered, and self-denial was something he abhorred. He couldn't deny it any longer; somewhere along the line, he had fallen for Janice. Maybe the changes he thought he was seeing were just his imagination striving to make him think that she loved him in return.

Too tired, in too much pain, and too _confused_ to think about it any longer, Riddler relished in the sudden blanket of painkiller induced exhaustion that lulled him towards a deep sleep.

* * *

><p>Janice grumbled incoherently as she paced aimlessly in her small kitchen, trying to blow off some serious steam. She had been angry at Riddler before, countless times, but never quite to this degree; she honestly wanted to stomp in there, throw him out of her bed, and scream at him to get the hell out of her house. Normally she could mostly dismiss his snarky comments because she deserved to have them thrown at her; often she said something worse first. But where the fuck did he get off saying something like <em>that<em> to her when she'd gone to the trouble of dragging him out of the building, hijacking a car, sneaking him back into the apartment, and patching him up, all out of the kindness of her own heart? It was almost like he _wanted_ to get thrown out. Or, at the very least, punched in the face.

The worst part was that his comment shouldn't have even _bothered_ her. His implications had _no_ grounding in reality; in fact, they were about as far from the truth as he could get. She _didn't_ care about him; his well being was meaningless to her. He was a complete jerk and horrible partner, and was quite possibly the least favorite boss she'd ever had. She _wasn't_ worried about him. She _wasn't_.

Janice threw herself dramatically onto the couch with a sigh. Maybe if she kept telling herself that, she would start to believe it. Because the truth was that she _did_ worry about him. When she'd seen him lying there, completely defenseless, she'd practically snapped. The thought that he might be hurt...the thought that the Bats might throw him back into Arkham...it had practically stopped her heart. The truth was, she _did_ worry about him.

As much as she didn't want to, she _did_ care. Although how _much_ she cared, she still wasn't sure.

And it was _because_ she worried, _because_ she cared, that his remark had set her off. She was almost willing to admit to herself that she cared, but having Riddler know was an entirely different story, because Riddler _didn't_ care; he only cared about himself, and wouldn't hesitate to hold it above her for all eternity. That was what she kept _telling _herself, at least; it was sort of hard to believe when she would catch him glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, and it wasn't always the expected lust that was in his eyes.

She wasn't yet sure exactly how she felt about Riddler, and she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know. No matter what the answer, she would lose; if she _didn't_ care about him in that way, they would never be able to stop fighting, which would obviously spell disaster; if she _did_, then everything about them would change—and not necessarily for the better. Right now she was lingering in a sort of gray area, as far as she could tell; a place where she could fall into either perfect distaste or idyllic enchantment, interchangeably, at any moment. And that was turning her brain into a staticy mess, too muddled and blurred to understand. All she knew was that it was all too confusing for her liking, and it was definitely going to screw her up during both of her "jobs", neither of which she wanted to lose. The only way she could think of to keep herself from becoming distracted was to remove what was distracting her.

Riddler needed to get out of her apartment.

Not permanently, of course—just long enough for her to develop an immunity to his more appealing traits; his androgynous good looks, his sharp wit, his staggering intelligence. Once she got past those particular attractions, his snarky, narcissistic nature would no doubt send her plummeting back into her state of loathing, and eventually one of tolerance. A perfectly constructed business relationship, nothing more, nothing less. Exactly what two Gotham villains working together needed, she had quickly learned.

Rising sluggishly, she stumbled her way exhaustedly (and more than a little back-broken—she almost felt guilty about making Riddler sleep on that dreadfully uncomfortable couch) toward the bedroom, intent on yelling at him to get out of her apartment (or stutter at him, if her current track record was any indication). Without even bothering to announce her entrance, since his privacy meant very little to her, especially when he was currently residing in _her_ bedroom, she entered, trying to look calm and composed, but failing utterly.

"Riddler, I—" She started to speak, but cut off when she noticed that Riddler was fast asleep. At first she had every intention of waking him up, but after watching him for a few moments, she realized that she really didn't want to. He looked so...uncharacteristically _peaceful_ like this. His face was flushed, giving his inhumanly pale skin a slightly red tint, and she wondered what he was dreaming about that would make him blush. She remembered the towel stunt she had pulled the other day and mentally slapped herself; it _must_ have seemed like she was coming on to him. Thinking about it now, that was probably why he had said something like that in the first place; _he_ wouldn't have known that she had only done that to see him get as flustered as she felt most of the time, and it was completely obvious that it had been on purpose.

Janice practically threw up; she had looking like she was _flirting_. Which had not been the case _at all_. She had stopped denying (at least to herself) the fact that she was _attracted_ to Riddler, but she was in no way in _love_ with him; she'd never really been in love with anyone, and Riddler certainly wasn't going to be the first.

She turned her attention once more to Riddler's sleeping form. His eyelids fluttered, and she stiffened, afraid he was going to wake up and discover her watching him, but he merely muttered something in his sleep and shifted slightly, wincing as he did so but remaining asleep. Her body didn't relax from its alert position, mostly because her brain had ceased all function in hopes that it would be able to keep her from thinking too hard about what she had just heard. Sure, Riddler was still asleep, and that was all well and good, because he wouldn't see her watching him sleep like some sort of tame voyeur.

But, unless her hearing was starting to fail her, she had just heard Riddler mutter _her_ name—and not with disdain or scorn or any of those wonderfully negative emotions that she _wanted_ associated with their relationship, but instead with—and it nearly made her retch for the second time that day—_affection_.

No, no, no. She had to be imagining it. Riddler could _not_ be falling for her. He was _Riddler_, a narcissistic, arrogant _bastard_. Hadn't she just spent 15 minutes convincing herself (or at least trying to that he _didn't_ care? And she didn't _want_ him to care. If he cared, if _he_ (God forbid) was in love with _her_, that would make everything so much more difficult.

Maybe she was just reading too much into it, or better yet, imagining it completely. For all she knew, he was dreaming about shooting her between the eyes. Because he _couldn't_ be in love with her, or even care at all. If he hated her, that would make everything so much easier, because once her own minute infatuation faded, she wouldn't have to worry about his. And it _was_ only a minute infatuation. She was reluctant to use the word 'crush', because it made her sound like a giggly teenage girl, but that was what it had to be.

Riddler's eyelids fluttered again, but Janice didn't stiffen this time; she was too lost in her own thoughts to care, and besides, it was _her_ bedroom; there were a thousand reasons why she could be in there. Not that he would believe a single one, but still. He was no longer muttering things to himself, but his placid facial expression contorted into one of uncomfortable worry. She furrowed her own brow, wondering if he was having a nightmare, or at least an unpleasant dream. Either way, she didn't like his expression; it was too much like the one he normally wore, and she had been enjoying his calm look. Especially since he wasn't wearing his usual layer of makeup, she having removed it when she'd brought him in. It made him look more natural, more human, and while he was "handsome but feminine" while wearing it, without it he was just handsome. His cheekbones were prominent, making his face look almost hollow, a perfect match to his protruding ribs and inhumanly flat stomach; he was so thin he looked like a walking skeleton, but on him, it worked.

Riddler's eyebrows furrowed further, and his eyes clenched as a small whimper escaped his throat. Instead of freezing again, Janice went by her instincts and strode forwards, away from the door and towards the side of the bed. She seated herself on the very edge and reached towards his face, her fingers ghosting against the side of his temple and jaw, her deeply tanned fingers a painful contrast to his alabaster skin. She tenderly stroked the side of his face, until his expression relaxed again. She kept her hand there for a few moments, watching as he tilted his head into it, before realizing what she was doing and pulling her hand away, jumping up and retreating to the dresser at the opposite end of the room. To compensate for the withdrawal of her hand, Riddler turned over onto his left, uninjured side and buried his face in her goose-down pillow.

_What am I _doing_?_ She asked herself. _So he's having a bad dream. So what? You're trying to get over this stupid crush, Janice, even _being_ here is counter-productive. _To avoid staring at Riddler, she turned her attention towards the dresser, which had only been ornamental until he had moved in. Now it housed Riddler's unworn casual clothing (he usually wore his costume, even just around the apartment) and most of his other belongings, at least of a personal nature. At least, that was what she had been told; despite sleeping in that room every night, she'd never once looked. Not so much out of respect for his privacy, more because she'd never really cared. But now, in desperate need of a distraction, she opened the oak dresser.

There wasn't much to see, really. Hanging in the dresser were a few t-shirts in various colors and a couple of pairs of jeans, all perfectly clean and obviously never worn, with a jacket folded away neatly on the top shelf, still sporting a price tag. It all seemed very uninteresting until she noticed the bag sitting at the bottom, showing signs of recent use, thrown in so hastily that it wasn't even closed. Her interest peaked, she pulled out the green shoulder bag and emptied it onto her nearby vanity, with little regard for the state of the contents. It was filled mostly by useless-looking pieces of machinery and computer equipment, which she quickly waded through to find the only two items of interest; a leather men's wallet, looking very out of place next to the feminine bag, and a smaller bag that was also still open. She first went through the wallet, but found nothing of interest; less than five dollars, and a few contact cards occupying the credit card slots. After pocketing the money (recompense for the increased food and utility bills, not to mention all of the computer equipment she'd bought for him) and replacing the wallet, along with all of the computer junk, she turned her attention to the smaller bag. She opened it further and emptied its contents onto the now-unoccupied vanity top, smirking at the results.

It was Riddler's makeup.

His lipstick, eyeshadow, and nail polish (all in black) were all lying on the vanity, all recently used (she guessed that was why the bag wasn't shut, Riddler had probably been in too much of a rush the night before). She had always wondered where he kept his makeup between uses, because whenever she saw him, he had a fresh coat; in fact, the first time she had ever seen him without any makeup at all was when she had washed it off of him upon bringing him in during the early hours of the morning. The mental image of Riddler having to stand in line at a store to buy an assortment of makeup (all of which appeared to be popular, expensive name brands, none the less) made her laugh, which she had to stifle in order to avoid waking him up.

Tapping her lower lip in thought, she examined all of the makeup. All three pieces were fairly full and looked nearly brand-new, and all of it was much better than what she had (a fact that made her a bit jealous); if she were to, hypothetically, _use_ some of it, Riddler would probably be none the wiser. She smiled at the thought; stealing from Riddler without any repercussions seemed very tempting, and she _had_ always wondered what she would look like wearing it. After all, if _Riddler_ could pull it off, then she could logically only make it look better. With a grin, she reached forwards and plucked the eyeshadow (and accompanying brush) from the counter and pulled the stool out from under the vanity, sitting on it.

For the next ten or so minutes she sat there, carefully applying the eyeshadow, lipstick, and then the nail polish. While she was sitting there, waiting for it to dry, she heard the creaking of bed springs and a low chuckling. When she turned around, Riddler was sitting up (a bit awkwardly, because of his injuries, but still sitting up) and peering around to try and see in the mirror, although he settled back when she turned towards him.

"You look good." he said, tilting his head to the side, as though examining her like a painting. "Not as good as _me_, but still. Good. You know, you should really incorporate that into your outfit. It would help us match more." At the compliment, she blushed, and turned back towards the mirror.

"Why would _I_ want to match _you_?" she hissed, looking at herself in the mirror. It was true; she _did_ match Riddler, although her skin tone wasn't as well suited to the color as his was. The black makeup against the alabaster skin made a certain impact; added to his black hair, it made him look almost like a highly sinister porcelain doll. With her, it merely looked like ordinary makeup, which was a nice, but mundane, effect.

"You seemed to be pretty intent on matching me when I found you." he said, letting his head rest on the headboard.

"I wasn't trying to match you, I was trying to cover my tracks. You'd be surprised how little motive comes into question when police think they're dealing with a copycat." she explained, blowing on her nails to make them dry faster. Riddler waved a hand in dismissal.

"Details, details." he said. "Speaking of, so long as you have me stuck here, could you bring me my work? I'd like to have it at least functional by the time I'm on my feet again." Janice rolled her eyes and grumbled to herself slightly.

"Yeah, whatever. Where is it?" she asked, blowing on her nails once more for good measure as she stood.

"It should be by the couch. Be careful, it's in pieces. Oh, and I'll need my toolkit, the computer, and you _did_ grab the flash drive with the program on it, right?" he asked. She rolled her eyes again and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Grabbed it as I was running to your aid. You're welcome, by the way." she said, turning towards the door. Less than a minute later, she returned with full arms, holding the various pieces of the machine that Riddler had been painstakingly piecing together, her own hijacked laptop (she'd stopped caring that he'd essentially stolen it), the flash drive, and an emerald green tool belt. She walked over and dumped the stuff onto the bed beside him. "Think you'll be okay for the time being? Can I go take care of some stuff without you whining?" she asked.

"I never whined. You're the one who kept checking on _me_." he reminded her, picking up the various pieces, as well as his tool belt. "But yes, I should be fine. If I _do _need anything, I'll let you know." he said. She walked across the room towards the bathroom and opened the door before turning towards him again.

"Try not to need anything." she said, slipping inside.

* * *

><p>When Janice emerged about an hour later, she was fully dressed, her hair dripping wet, and the makeup washed off. Riddler had completed a good portion of the machine's assembly in the meantime, and the large pile of half-assembled pieces had dwindled considerably. It was starting to look less like a mess and more like an actual machine, giving Janice some confidence that it might actually work.<p>

She walked over to the nightstand and leaned back against it, arms crossed, her gaze shifting from Riddler to the machine in his lap and back.

"So," she said, finally settling her eyes on him. "what's our game plan?" she asked.

"Well, as soon as I finish this, and I'm given the OK to get up, we'll need to find a computer that's connected to the city wide network." he explained. "Hopefully one with weaker security. I'm not sure the program we stole will be able to fight past anything particularly strong."

"What does that program _do_, anyway?" she asked.

"Well, normally, it's your run-of-the-mill file sharing program. But with a bit of reworking, and the help of this machine, it could easily become an _invasive_ file sharing program, able to easily deliver unwanted files to a mass amount of computers without fail, and I've developed a virus that will completely overtake any computer it infects." he explained, attaching another piece of the machine. "So if I upload the virus to the city network.."

"...then you'll have control over every computer in Gotham." she finished. "Including everything in the city that's run by them, like the trains, banks, stores..." Riddler nodded.

"Complete, citywide control." he said. Now it was Janice's turn to nod.

"Huh. That plan's actually..._good_. I'm shocked." she said. "And you've been planning this from the start?" she asked.

"I've been planning this since long before our partnership started, actually. It's been about 6 months in the works." he explained. "In fact, when the Bat captured me, I was working on getting some of the preliminary parts."

"Well, _that_ attempt certainly failed." she said with a chuckle. Riddler narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything in rebuttal, knowing it was the truth. "I guess it's a good thing _I _came along, after all." Now it was Riddler's turn to chuckle, closing his eyes and leaning back against the headrest.

"I wouldn't be singing your own praises if I were you." he said. "You've done well so far, but being overconfident is what usually lands us villains in Blackgate and Arkham." Janice smirked.

"So you admit that I've been doing well." she said. Riddler rolled his eyes and leaned forwards again, going back to working on the machine.

"Yes, I admit that you've been doing well. You've done your job efficiently and _usually _without fail, you've gotten me what I need, and you've adjusted much faster than I ever imagined." he said. "So far, you're more than par for the course. I'm just saying that you shouldn't let it go to your head. The overconfident tend to make mistakes, and making mistakes is what gets us caught." Janice gave him a 'you're kidding' look before stepping away from the nightstand and towards the bedroom door.

"Don't worry, I'll be the humblest of the humble. Might wanna work on that yourself, though." she said. "By the way, I'm leaving now. Don't know when I'll be back, so try not to bleed to death or anything while I'm gone."

"Leaving? Where do you have to be on a Saturday afternoon, dressed like that?" he asked, examining her outfit; it looked very similar to what she normally wore to work, only slightly fancier. "Normally you just putter around the apartment or go shopping or some such."

"I may work for _you_, but that doesn't mean I don't have a normal life, too. And I plan for things to stay that way as long as possible. It helps to keep the suspicion off of me." she explained. "And if you really need to know, I'm going on a date." Riddler was slightly startled by the reply, but didn't say anything to betray it.

"A date? With who?" he asked, trying to sound casual, although his peaked interest flavored every word.

"My boss." she replied. "The principal of the school. He called while you were still unconscious. He seems to have an interest in me, so I figure if I play nice I might actually get a raise decent enough to be able to afford the extra living costs." She sent a meaningful glare his way.

"So a pity date, then." he said. She shrugged.

"Never said that." she replied. "A date can be for multiple purposes. My job advancement opportunities are just one of them."

"So it _is_ an actual date." Riddler clarified. Janice turned to look at him.

"One, why are you talking like a teenager, and two, why do you care?" she asked. He shrugged.

"I ask questions. It's what I do." he replied. She rolled her eyes.

"Well, as long as you're content with not getting the answers." she said. "Because frankly, whether or not I'm going on an actual date as opposed to a pity date really is none of your concern."

"It is if there's any possibility it might get in the way of your work." he said. "Trust me, relationships between villains and law abiding citizens never work, even when the villain's identity is a secret." Janice raised a questioning eyebrow.

"And you know this _because_?" she asked, turning back towards him, one hand on her hip and the other allowing her to lean against the door. Riddler didn't look at her, and merely continued to work while he spoke.

"Because people with highly questionable morals tend not to get along very well with people with upstanding morals. It's logic. Try using some on occasion." he spat. Janice rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. Seeya." she said, opening the bedroom door and slipping out into the main room. Just before it closed completely, she stuck her head back in the room. "And by the way, my cell will be _off_, so tough luck if you were planning on calling me and messing up my date." And then she slipped back out and slammed the door, and moments later, he heard the front door close as well.

"Wouldn't dream of it." he muttered.

* * *

><p><em>Face it, Riddler; you're jealous.<em>

The almost completed machine lay on the left side of the bed, along with all of the tools, Janice's laptop, and the few remaining pieces, while Riddler lay on the right, all hopes of trying to get any real work done abandoned in favor of staring at the ceiling.

_You shouldn't be, and yet somehow, you are. She's out there, on a date with some morally upstanding high school principal, and you wish it was you. Face the facts; you've gotten in way too deep. You promised yourself you wouldn't let this happen again, and _now_ look what you've done; at least before, you thought there might be a _chance_ that Julie could love you. But you _know_ that, even if on the off chance Janice _does_ love you, she'll never do anything about it. She's too stubborn..._

Riddler rolled over onto his side, facing away from the almost completed machine.

"What am I thinking? I don't _want_ her to love me...that would make things too..._complicated_." he muttered to himself, turning back onto his back.

_Would it, though? Would it _really_? You _know_ you love her...you've stopped denying that. Would it be better for that to be unrequited, and end up making you miserable and distracted? Or would it be better for her to love you in return, and possibly end up fixing all of the issues you've had so far? You would be the perfect team..._

"Real life doesn't work like that. Love only distracts you. And in this line of work, distractions are the last thing I need." he said.

_Distractions have nothing to do with it; you're _scared_. Scared you'll just get hurt again._

"So what if I am? There's nothing _wrong_ with being afraid of soul-destroying pain." he said. "Love is trust. I trusted Julie. And look where that got me. I could have been a successful scientist, but instead, I can't walk down the street without being arrested."

_Which is a life that _you _chose, and one that Janice chose as well. Look at it this way; have you had any issues with trusting her so far? Has she done anything yet to ruin your life?_

"...no, she hasn't. In fact, she's been a wonderful partner; and if she hasn't betrayed me yet..." Riddler shook his head violently. "No, no, no, no, no! There's _no_ way I'm going to tell her. Knowing her, she'll probably turn me in to the police."

_Not if she cares about you._

"She doesn't." he said, turning over again, this time facing the electronics. He looked at each part; all of them products of their partnership. "Women like her don't fall in love with men like me."

God, he really was psychotic.

* * *

><p>Riddler looked up from the computer, having finished the machine and now working on installing the necessary components for it to function, when he heard a knock at the door.<p>

"Is Your Highness Bitchfit feeling well enough for company?" he heard Janice ask.

"Since when do _you_ knock?" he asked in return. Janice seemed to take than as an OK, and opened the door, slipping inside.

"Since you practically bite my head off for the stupidest things. Don't need you bursting a blood vessel because I came in without knocking; I'm pretty tired of patching you up." she explained.

"You've only had to do that _once_." he reminded her.

"Which is once more than I ever wanted to." she replied.

"So, how did your _date_ go?" Riddler asked, trying to sound casual, an effect thwarted by the amount of venom in the word 'date'. Janice shrugged.

"OK, I guess. I'm pretty sure he enjoyed it, so hopefully my next paycheck will be a bit more generous with the work bonuses." she said. "But I did manage to slip in a question I think you'll be interested in knowing the answer to." Riddler raised an eyebrow in mock interest.

"Oh? Really, now? And what is that?" he asked, his voice a dull monotone with no attempts at emotion. Janice rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly.

"The school's utilities happened to come up in conversation, which, by the way, mostly revolved around work, so don't get your skinny jeans in a twist; and I happened to think to ask if the school computers are connected to the citywide network. Turns out, they are." she explained. "I'll give them a quick once over on Monday to make sure they aren't too heavily protected, although I highly doubt that they are. Then we're free to make our move." Riddler froze for a second.

"...oh. Well, good work, I suppose." he said, feeling rather embarrassed. Janice shrugged, leaning back against the now closed door.

"No big deal. Something good's gotta come of every bad date out there." she said. He looked at her in surprise.

"Bad date?...you had a bad time?" he asked, trying not to sound as happy about that as he felt, which admittedly _did_ _not_ help his internal argument. She sighed and shook her head.

"Yeah, kind of. I mean, it wasn't the kind of bad that makes you want to sneak out the back door before dessert, but I was bored stiff the entire time." she replied. "To be honest, I would have rather been out pulling another heist. But with you bedridden and all, and all the parts for this Wonder-Machine of yours already snatched, I didn't see the point."

"You could have gone alone, you know. For a bank robbery or an art gallery steal, something to lighten my apparent monetary burden." he said. She shook her head.

"I'm the sidekick, remember? That was our agreement. I'll stick to it as long as you do." she said. "And the way I see it, it's unprofessional for the sidekick to go off on their own and do something without their boss there." Riddler raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Are you sure you're not just too scared of being caught if I'm not there to help you?" he asked. She chuckled.

"In case you care to remember, the ass-saving ratio is in _my_ favor, so I don't think that's much of an issue. But nice try." she said. "Mostly I'm afraid that you'll get bitchy if the public happen to realize I kick more ass than you do."

"I'm afraid that won't happen, Janzy. You're too new to the business. I still scare them more than you could even hope to, because I've been around longer; they _know_ they should be afraid of me." he explained, waving a hand in dismissal, going back to working on the computer.

"What the hell did you just call me?" Janice asked, looking at Riddler like he had suddenly sprouted a second head, a look he noticed when he glanced up from his work upon hearing the question.

"Oh. Well, calling you Question Mark is stupid, and calling you Janice sounds too formal. So, 'Janzy'." he replied. "Don't flatter yourself, I do it for everyone. It just makes things easier to keep track of, that's all."

"I wasn't flattering myself, I was wondering where the _real_ Riddler had gone." she corrected. "You've been acting really weird lately; first you snap at me for the weirdest things, and now you're giving me nicknames. I wish you would make up your goddamn _mind_." she said.

"Well, maybe this _is_ the real Riddler." he replied. "And you just didn't know it."

"Jeeze, you're acting really _weird_ today." Janice said, crossing her arms. "Like, more than usual. You sure the Bats didn't hit you too hard?" she asked. Riddler sighed.

"I'm not even _sure_. I think I may be having an epiphany, but I'd rather assume I have a concussion." he explained. The look on Janice's face could only be described as 'confused beyond belief'.

"OK then, uh...good luck with that." she said. "Are you feeling OK enough to get up?" she asked.

"I have been for hours now." he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Why, are you going to make another 'worried' quip?" she asked in response.

"No, I think the slap to the face cured me of all desire to do _that_ again." he replied. "Like I said before, it's just in my nature to ask questions."

"Yeah, well." she said, rolling her eyes. "Pardon me if I don't always trust you. Anyways, I was just asking because I figured you'd be hungry by now, and I know I can't cook worth shit. If you weren't, I would've ordered something." Riddler set the computer aside and lifted himself out of bed. For the first time, Janice noticed that he was wearing his casual clothing. He swam in the plain black shirt, an article of clothing clearly designed for someone with substance, and he was practically walking on the hem of his jeans. "You know,this is the first time I've seen you wearing anything other than your costume." Riddler shrugged.

"Yes, well. I can't exactly wear that _all_ the time." he said. "I don't just have these clothes for giggles. Besides, it's not practical for me to wear a full-body spandex suit all day." he pointed out.

"And yet, usually you do." Janice replied. "I mean, you even _sleep_ in costume. Is that because you like to, or do you just not trust me?" she asked.

"You're a hard person to trust." he pointed out. She smirked.

"So does that mean you trust me _now_?" she asked. Riddler rolled his eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself." he replied. "I just wanted to be comfortable. Trust has nothing to do with it." Janice rolled her eyes.

"You know, you'd make a great politician. You can sidestep questions with the greatest of ease." she said. "Can't you just give me a straight answer? Do you trust me, or not?" she asked.

"Do we really have to have this conversation right now?" he asked in response. She nodded matter-of-factly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we do." she replied. "Why, when would you _like_ to have the conversation? When we're in the middle of a heist? When I'm at work? Now seems like the _perfect _time. After all, neither of us is exactly busy." Riddler pushed his hair back and sighed.

"Truthfully?" he said. "If I didn't, I wouldn't still be letting you be my partner. You're one of the only people I've met for a very long time who I've been able to trust, actually. I didn't trust you at _all _at first, but you proved yourself loyal. You never left, even when the Bats showed up. So yes, I trust you." he replied. "Can we go eat now?" Janice smiled.

"Yeah. Sure."

* * *

><p>The rest of the day and all of Sunday went without event; Riddler spent his time finishing the machine, and Janice did whatever she could think of; household chores, shopping, whatever struck her fancy. She would have preferred to be out wreaking havoc, but Riddler was not only busy, but quite adamant about doing anything else until the machine was completed. <em>'There's no use in attracting any unwanted attention and getting captured right before we initiate our plan.'<em> he'd said, which left her wandering aimlessly around the apartment for most of the two days. When Monday morning finally arrived, she was almost relieved to be back at work, if only for something to do. But it wasn't just teaching that she had on her mind; she knew she had to check the network access, something she wouldn't have a chance to do until last period, since that was her only class not currently in the middle of a project.

She determinedly ignored the teacher's lounge, where she usually spent her free time before her first period class started, because she wanted to limit her chances of running into Jonathan; the date had been boring enough, she didn't want him ruining her Monday, too. Unfortunately, he seemed to be psychic, and was waiting for her in her classroom.

"Ah, Janice. Good morning. Did you have a good weekend?" he asked, stepping away from her desk, where he had been going through her lesson plan.

"Yeah. Sunday was kind of boring, but I got through it alright." she replied, forcing a smile. He didn't seem to notice the phoniness of her grin, and just smiled sincerely in return.

"You should have called me. I'm sure I could have found someplace we could have gone." he said. Janice did her best to not gag or roll her eyes exasperatedly, but a nervous little hiccup escaped regardless.

"Yeah, well...I didn't want to bother you on your only two days off." she lied. "And besides, I had a few household chores to catch up on."

"Oh yes, because of your guest, right?" he asked. Janice tried not to be shocked by the fact that he somehow knew she had someone staying in her apartment, even though she had never mentioned the fact; Jonathan wasn't the brightest man around, but after her slip around Barbara, she wasn't going to take that risk. However, Jonathan still noticed her confusion. "Barbara Gordon told me. Sweet girl, even if she can be a bit of a troublemaker sometimes. Wouldn't you agree?" he asked. She responded with the sweetest, most honest smile she could muster.

"Of course. I love having her in my class. She's always ready to take initiative and she isn't afraid to...take risks or speak her mind." she said, trying to keep her voice from cracking like it normally did when she lied. Riddler would have noticed in a moment that she was lying, but Jonathan was far from being Riddler, and her smile was convincing enough to him.

"I'm glad to hear that." he said. "Most of her teachers complain about her constantly. She's really a bright kid, she just has a lot of excess energy." he continued. She nodded politely, trying desperately to not display the fact that she really didn't want him around. Luckily, she didn't have to pretend for long, because he happened to look up and see the clock mounted on the wall. "Oh, would you look at the time. Class is about to start. Well, I'll be seeing you." With a perky grin and a small wave, he turned away and walked towards the door. Janice lingered by her desk until he closed the door behind him, at which point she sighed and leaned onto the piece of furniture. She had never realized before how much needlessly perky people annoyed her; maybe it was due to the fact that she was now a criminal, but optimism was no longer a positive trait in her eyes. The possibility that the reason she could no longer stand to be around optimistic people was because Riddler was about as far from optimistic as you could get crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it; Riddler's crippling pessimism was just as annoying to her, or at the very least, that was what she kept telling herself. To be honest, she wasn't exactly sure; it used to bother her endlessly, but she had almost gotten used to it by now.

Of course, she didn't exactly have time to sit around and think about that at the moment; as the morning bell rang, her first class of the day started trickling in, and her mind instantly kicked into 'teacher' mode.

But even as she sat at her desk and patiently answered questions, as they worked on their preordained assignment, the thought remained implanted in the far reaches of her brain. Was she really getting so used to being around Riddler that she was getting annoyed by people who weren't like him? Was his snarky and pessimistic attitude really starting to grow on her?

She hoped not. She was confused enough already. Things were easier to deal with when Riddler still, at least, annoyed her.

* * *

><p>"Why are we in the computer lab?"<p>

Janice looked up from the computer she had sat herself at to see Barbara standing there. She gave her her most sincere fake smile.

"Well...I thought it would be a nice break from the work we've been doing lately." she lied, laying her arm lazily across the back of the chair. "Why? Not a fan of computers?" she asked, trying to remain casual.

"No, I was just...wondering." she said, looking around. "You're using a computer, too? Why?" she asked.

"If you're going to have a computer break, don't I deserve one, too?" she asked in response.

"Yeah, I guess." she replied. "You, uh...like computers, do you?" she asked. Janice drummed her fingers against the keyboard absentmindedly.

"Who doesn't?" she asked. "Besides the Amish." Barbara shrugged.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose." she said. "So, um, I'm just gonna...go over there." She walked away towards one of the open computers, every so often glancing back at Janice, who pretended not to notice.

Barbara's interest worried Janice, but she tried to push the worry to the back of her mind. After all, she had something she had to be doing, and Barbara's unsureness told her that she had played her part well. Using the reflective nature of the computer screen to ensure that nobody was watching, she logged onto the computer using her predecessors network account (the man was so careless, really, he should have known better than to leave his username and password just sitting in his double-bolted desk drawer). As soon as the ridiculously slow connection, no doubt the fault of how many students were on at the same time, logged her on, she lead the mouse down to the toolbar and located the network connection icon, at which point she right clicked and selected "Check Network Connections". It brought up a small window containing the various available networks, and she selected the only one available, thus bringing up the network connection information.

_No encryption...that's a good sign. _She thought. _Let's see how you like foreign hardware. _She produced a flash drive from her pocket, encoded with a home brewed virus; nothing like the program Riddler had made, but definitely enough to ensure that the network was accessible. She plugged it into the USB port at the front of the computer and immediately a small message popped up saying that the device was ready to use. She opened the folder and started up the application containing the virus. Logged onto a teacher's account, it took nothing more than re-entering her password to start the program, and immediately a loading bar popped up and quickly filled. As soon as it reached the end, her screen and the screen of everyone else in the room went green for a few seconds before returning to normal. Feeling content with the results of her test, she discreetly reached down and pulled out the flash drive, hiding it up her sleeve so that nobody would notice it. Immediately after she stood up, tuning out the 20-or-so voices asking what had just happened.

"I'm just gonna step out for a second." she said. "To check and see if there's anything wrong with the school's mainframe. Just...behave for a little while, OK?" The students nodded as she slipped out into the hallway and walked in the direction of the main office (unknown to them, she slipped into the next side hallway she found and out one of the side exits).

Barbara watched all of this with interest. It probably wouldn't have captured her attention as much if the screen hadn't turned _green_...and it _could_ just be a coincidence. Or Janice could have had nothing to do with it at all. But she was almost _certain_ she was correct.

"Janice Michaels" was Question Mark.

* * *

><p>Janice made sure the heavy door was closed behind her, and that there were no stray teachers having sneaked out for a quick smoke break in the middle of class, before reaching into her purse and pulling out her new (coincidentally green; it had been the last color left in the store, curse her horrible luck) cell phone. Hitting speed dial, her house phone only rang for half of a ring before Riddler picked up.<p>

"Did you figure out if it will work?" he asked, skipping the pleasantries.

"Yeah, it'll work." she replied. "There are almost _no_ security features in place; as long as you have a teacher's administrative account, it's fully open." The smile that crept onto Riddler's face was practically audible, nearly drowning out the dull clanking she heard in the background, which sounded almost like pots and pans (she presumed he was cooking something). "So we move in tonight?" she asked.

"Of course." he replied. There was a slight pause, in which Janice didn't speak, because she could tell that Riddler was in the process of trying to think of something to say. After a few moments, he cleared his throat. "Are you..._sure_ you want to do this?" he asked. The question took her by understandable surprise.

"What do you mean? Of course I do." she replied. "Do you honestly think I'd back out now?"

"Well, no, but...I didn't think you'd want to put your teaching job in jeopardy. And I know you were bothered by one of your students becoming curious. I just thought that you might want to sit this one out, that's all." he replied, sounding as though he were expecting her to be angry. She rolled her eyes.

"Look, I'm not bailing on this. As much as I don't always like it, we're partners. I'm not going to duck out of this _now_." she replied. "And besides, what's one job more or less? I'm not even too fond of this one, anyways." she said with a laugh.

"If you're sure." Riddler replied. "When do you think you'll be getting home?" he asked. Janice raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"About 4 o'clock, as usual." she replied. "Why?" she asked.

"No particular reason." he replied. "Just...want to make sure I put all of the time it takes you to get ready into account for the heist."

"One, it takes _you_ longer to get ready than it takes _me_, thanks." she said. "And two, either way, I have until like. 1 in the morning. What does it matter?" she asked.

"It doesn't, really, I was simply curious." he replied. "Really, why do you always have to question me?"

"Because everything you say is questionable." she replied. "Anyways, I'd better get going. I left my class just sitting around, and if another teacher finds them, I'll be in deep shit. See you at 4."

"Ah—yes, see you then." he said, before hanging up. Janice quickly followed suit, tucking the phone away inside her purse once again. She slipped back into the school and quickly made her way back to her class, who were all chatting, but at least weren't causing any trouble.

"OK, looks like everything's perfectly fine." she said. "You guys can go back to..._whatever_ it is you were doing." Everyone turned to look at her for a moment, then went back to chatting. Janice retreated to her seat and leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes and trying to occupy herself with running through her mental map of the school, figuring out possible entrance and escape routes, rather than thinking about Riddler's odd behavior.

"Barbara, what're you doing?"

She turned in the direction from which she heard the annoying, high-pitched voice of one of her female students, catching Barbara quickly turning her head out of the corner of her eye. She narrowed her eyes; she was being too suspicious for Janice's liking. She couldn't afford to have _anyone_ snooping around, much less the daughter of the commissioner of police. But there was really no time to be worrying about it; the clock's hands were quickly reaching for the end of the school day, and although she wasn't going to readily admit it, she was eager to see why, exactly, Riddler was acting so strangely.

"So, uh...is there any homework?" Barbara asked, clearly trying to cover for her noticed curiosity. Janice looked over at her.

"Nope." she replied. "It's not like we actually _did_ anything today." she pointed out.

"Uh...yeah. Right." she said, chuckling embarrassedly. Janice gave her a sideways glance (mostly making sure she wasn't watching her too intently), before turning her attention back to the clock. Almost as soon as she turned her head, the bell rang shrilly, announcing the end of the school day. Nearly as eager to be gone as her students, she quickly logged out of her predecessors account, hoisted her bag over her shoulder, and quickly walked towards the exit of the building before anyone could ask her anything. Not only did she want to catch the 3:40 bus, rather than have to wait for half an hour to catch the next one, but questions were the last thing she wanted to deal with when she had so many of her own.

* * *

><p>The bus ride was spent primarily in thought, her mind still preoccupied with figuring out <em>why<em>, exactly, Riddler had asked her when she would be getting home. After all, normally he didn't _care_ about her getting home at _all—_half the time not even acknowledging her—never mind her getting home promptly. As was the case these days, she barely even noticed when the bus reached her stop, and moved almost automatically as she made her way down the block and through the building to her apartment.

As soon as she opened the door, a strong, delightful scent assaulted her olfactory senses, taking her by surprise for a moment. She carefully closed the door, trying not to make too much noise, depositing her purse on the small table in the front hall as she always did. She quietly approached the kitchen, and peered into it from around the corner, and was surprised by what she saw.

Riddler was busy cooking, which in itself wouldn't have been so weird, but combining the fact that he had been so interested in when she would be getting home with the fact that, if the already prepared food and set plates were any indication, he seemed to be cooking for two, it nearly bowled her over. No longer bothering with secrecy, she leaned against the side of the door frame, humming in interest.

"So, is _this_ why you wanted to know when I was getting home? Impressive." she said, nodding. Riddler, startled by her speaking, quickly whirled around, nearly forgetting he was handling food, but quickly caught himself.

"Janice, you're home already?" he said, hiding the food with his body as best as he could without looking awkward, which he failed at.

"Uh, yeah. It's 4 o'clock, just when I _said_ I would be home." she replied, placing her hands on her hips, using her shoulder to balance herself against the door frame. She nodded towards the food. "What're you making?" she asked.

"Er—vegetable lasagna and tomato risotto." he replied. "Since you can't cook, I figured a nice, home cooked meal would be good thanks for helping me." She shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess that'll work." she said. "Is it almost ready?" Riddler chuckled.

"You're rather _impatient._" he said.

"Screw being patient, I'm _hungry_." she replied. "_You_ try dealing with teenagers all day, without lunch because I was too busy making plans to help a certain _someone, _and see if _you_ aren't starving."

"Oh, you _poor_ thing." Riddler said, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure it must be _so_ hard for you to go to work every day and watch a bunch of annoying adolescents."

"It's a hell of a lot harder than sitting on your ass with your nose buried in a laptop all day." she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oh, and harder than living on the run as a fugitive, not knowing when you'll have a roof over your head or something to eat, right?" he asked, placing the food on the plates he had sitting off to the side.

"You seemed to do pretty well with worming your way under _my_ roof and eating all of _my_ food." she said, approaching the counter and taking her plate and digging utensils out of the drawer.

"Only because _someone_ was all too eager to trade those things away for the chance to be my partner." he reminded her as they made their way to the table and sat down. Janice glared at him, picking up her fork and digging into her lasagna. She was about to make a snappy retort, but decided instead to first take a bite of her food, and was suddenly rendered speechless. "What, no witty comeback? I'm shocked." Riddler said, a triumphant grin on his face.

"...you're _damn_ lucky I'm too busy being astounded by how _good_ this food is to punch you in the face for that stupid grin." she said, taking another bite of her lasagna.

"Wow, no witty retort_ and _a compliment? It must be my lucky day." he said smugly, taking a bite of his own food.

"Don't let it go to your head." she said. "Being a good cook doesn't mean I'm not going to pick on you for a hundred other things." They ate in silence for a few minutes before Janice's curiosity got the better of her. "So, why?" she asked. He looked up from his own food.

"Why what?" he asked in response.

"Why did you bother cooking for me?" she asked. "I was under the impression that you'd rather wash your eyes out with acid than do anything nice for me. Could it be that you're actually growing to, dare I say it, _like_ me?"

"Please, don't flatter yourself." he said. "I just did it to thank you for taking care of me. And besides, cooking twice as much takes no real extra effort, and you're the one paying for all of the ingredients." he reminded her. "Did you figure out if the school's network is accessible?" he asked. She nodded.

"There's almost no security in place. We should have no problem." she replied. He gave a small smile.

"Good." he said. "Then we strike tonight."

"You sure you're feeling up to a full out job?" she asked. "I mean, I know it's been a few days, but you were hurt pretty bad." she pointed out.

"Why are you so concerned about my health?" he asked.

"It must be the doctor in me." she replied.

"I was wondering about that. You mentioned having a medical degree, and the jobs I know you to have had include a psychologist and a teacher. Is there _anything_ you're not qualified to do?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Not a lot, to be honest. I originally went to school to become a doctor, and I did pretty well at that for a time, until..." she trailed off, looking embarrassed. "Well, to tell the truth, until my temper got the better of me. I did a few other things medical related until I decided that it was apparent that the medical world wasn't for me, so I went back to school and got a teaching degree. Repeat process about 5 times, and you've got me now."

"How could you have possibly gotten your degree in so many things so quickly?" he asked. "I know for sure you're not possibly old enough to have gone through _that_ many courses."

"I have a photographic memory," she reminded him. "and so I took almost fully automated courses that pretty much went at whatever speed you did. Let me get all of my degree's in record time."

"I've never heard of such a thing." Riddler said. Janice shrugged.

"The university I went to may be the only one that offered it. It wasn't exactly a..._normal_ school." she replied. "It's the kind of place that gets labeled 'alternative' because nobody knows what else to call it." Riddler nodded in understanding, and nothing else was asked.

* * *

><p>As soon as their food had disappeared from their plates, plans started being formed, reliant on Janice's intimate knowledge of the layout of the school. The final plan was a fairly simple one; enter through the maintenance door, the one used by the janitors, which they often forgot to set the alarm for after they left for the night, make their way to the computer lab, upload the virus, and get out of there before anyone even know what was going on.<p>

Part 1 was simple enough; with the aid of a car mysteriously left there for their use ("It's simpler than having to steal one ourselves." Riddler had said, when she had expressed understandable confusion when he produced the keys), getting to the school was no problem, and getting into the school itself was even easier, due to the maintenance door not even being _locked._ She assumed they didn't think anyone would really be interested in breaking in, what with the low levels of delinquency in the school and the low value of essentially everything located within.

Getting into the computer lab was marginally harder, although still not difficult by any stretch of the imagination, with the door being locked. Riddler's staff quickly took care of that, however, and soon he was seated in front of one of the monitors, the device plugged in and operational, with him typing away at a speed she could barely even comprehend.

"So how long will it take, do you think?" she asked.

"At least 10 minutes, with the speed of _this_ ancient beast of a computer." he replied. "Why? Are you worried about getting caught?" he asked mockingly. Janice rolled her eyes behind her mask, but couldn't stop herself from smiling just slightly.

"_One_ of us has to be." she replied. Riddler was about to say something else when he whipped his head around, then turned back to her and put a finger to his lips. She tensed and mouthed, 'What is it?'

'I heard something.' he mouthed in reply.

'Are you sure?' she asked. He nodded. 'I'll go check it out.' she mouthed, finishing their silent conversation as she slipped out of the room and into the halls, listening very intently for whatever it was that Riddler had heard. She made it all the way to the gymnasium without hearing anything, and was about to give up and go back to Riddler when she sensed something fairly large drop behind her. She whirled around just in time to deflect a fist aimed at her head, clearly intent on knocking her out, with the side of her arm, wincing. In the darkness she couldn't quite make out the face of her would-be attacker, but from the height and form she could figure it out easily enough. "Batgirl. I should've known. Seems like you turn up everywhere." she growled, blocking a roundhouse kick and replying with one of her own, also easily blocked.

"Save it, _Question Mark. _You're not fooling anyone anymore." she said. Janice narrowed her eyes.

"What're you talking about?" she asked.

"I know who you are, _Janice Michaels._"

Janice froze, which resulted in her very nearly getting hit again, but her reflexes were such that she managed to block it even while distracted.

"How did you..." She gasped in realization, ducking out of the way of another strike. "Aw, goddamnit, I should've known." she hissed. "You're Barbara Gordon." Her realization took Batgirl by surprise for long enough that she was able to hit her, knocking her off balance.

"How did you...?" Batgirl, or rather Barbara Gordon, asked.

"Oh, please. 1, now that I look at you, you look _exactly_ like her," she said, easily dodging a badly thrown punch and replying with a roundhouse kick, which Barbara ducked under quite easily. "2, we didn't set off an alarm, so the only way you would've been able to figure out where we were would be if you'd already suspected it, and why would you, unless you'd been there to see me screwing around with the computers, and 3, no normal person, not even a commissioner's daughter would have any reason to suspect me!" She finished her explanation by dropping to the ground and doing a sweep, knocking Barbara off of her feet. She quickly regained herself, however, but quick as she was, Janice had already taken off running by the time she was on her feet.

"Hey, why're you running? You can't tell me you're honestly afraid to fight me!" she yelled, chasing after her.

"Why would I _ever_ be afraid of fighting you?" Janice asked. "But I know how you guys work! If you're here fighting me, that means the other annoyances are here too!" And she also knew that if the other two were there and not attacking _her_, it meant they were going after Riddler.

She was so preoccupied with trying to get to Riddler that, when something grabbed her ankle, she was caught completely off guard, sending her sprawling to the ground. Before she could even really react, Barbara stepped on her back, keeping her pinned, and produced a pair of handcuffs.

"You're done now, Janice. You and Riddler have gotten away too many times already." Barbara said, cuffing her wrists. Janice scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, don't _you_ sound all high and mighty. Nobody's intimidated by you, kid; you're just a little bit of added trouble to deal with." she pointed out. Barbara growled, but before she could say anything, they were interrupted by a loud crash coming from the computer lab.

Barbara's momentary distraction gave Janice the chance to buck upwards, the movement knocking the teenager flat onto her back. With her hands still cuffed behind her, she rushed towards the computer lab, pausing only to step over her own hands so that they were now in front of her.

As was expected, she was the first to reach the computer lab, only to find Riddler fighting Batman and Robin, like she had presumed. Her entry went unnoticed for only a split second before Robin noticed her approaching and swung at her, which she blocked with the handcuffs, using them to twist his staff out of his grip and kicking him in the chest as soon as it was. This sent him stumbling into Batman, who's momentary surprise allowed Riddler to push him back, sandwiching the two heroes between himself and Janice. Things seemed to be going in their favor until Batgirl made her return appearance, catching Janice in the back.

All of this happened within the space of about a minute, giving the two villains just enough time to formulate a plan of escape. Nodding at each other quickly, Janice turned around and grabbed Barbara, throwing her at her teammates, while Riddler grabbed the device and bolted for the door. Janice swiftly followed, and before the Bat's could recover themselves, they were gone.

* * *

><p>"Well...that could have gone better."<p>

Janice massaged her wrists, just now freed from the handcuffs by the lock picking device in the end of Riddler's staff, and frowned. Riddler noticed her sullen expression quite quickly.

They were back, now, in her apartment, Riddler sitting on the couch with the device sitting on the coffee table in front of him, Janice pacing the length of the room. Riddler felt disheartened by the defeat, but it was clear that Janice was the more upset of the two of them.

Leaning back against the soft back cushions of the couch, Riddler adjusted his too-large-for-him t-shirt, watching Janice walk back and forth across the room.

"Why are you so upset? So we failed. So what. We'll just try again." he said. Janice whirled around, clearly angry.

"Is _that_ what you think this is about? Us failing to upload your stupid virus? You're clearly mistaking me for someone who _cares_." she hissed. Riddler narrowed his eyes.

"_What,_ then? What is upsetting you?" he asked.

"Why do you _care_?" she asked in response.

"I..." He trailed off, looking away. "I don't _know, _OK. I just _do._" he replied. "Do you really hate me so much that you can't tell me why you're upset?" he asked. Janice sighed.

"No, it's not that, it's just..." She sighed, massaging her temples. "They know who I am." she said. Riddler's eyes went slightly wider, just enough to be noticable.

"How did they figure it out?" he asked.

"Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter and my student, is Batgirl." she replied. "She got suspicious of me examining the school's computers, and decided to investigate. Turns out that us going to the school tonight was exactly the evidence she needed." She sighed, covering her eyes with one hand. Riddler couldn't think of what to say for a moment, and eventually sighed as well.

"Yes, well. I suppose it was inevitable." he said. "They figure out all of our identities, at one time or another."

Janice snapped.

"I just had the loss of my freedom essentially _guaranteed,_ and all you can say is 'it was inevitable'? Wow, it's really no wonder you turned into sociopath." she hissed. "Do you have even an _ounce_ of compassion in you?" she asked. Riddler rose to his feet.

"Of _course_ I do. I just think that you're overreacting. You knew of the consequences when you decided to do this." he said. "It's a pity, really, and if there was any way I could help you change the fact, then believe me, I would. But what's done is done." She turned away from him.

"If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened." she growled. The comment made Riddler's stomach turn, because as much as he wanted to argue the opposite, he knew it was true.

"Janice, I..." He trailed off, approaching her. He put a hand on her shoulder, which she just slapped away.

"Just _leave me alone, _Edward." she hissed. He was a bit taken aback by the use of his first name, especially with such _venom_ behind it. "You clearly don't care at all, so don't pretend that you do." Riddler grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around, which she responded to by grabbing his wrist and twisting it, threatening to break it. "Let me go, Edward, or you'll seriously regret it." she said.

"You're wrong." he said. "I _do_ care. If I didn't, why would I even bother trying to help you?" he asked. She narrowed her eyes.

"Prove it." she hissed.

Riddler took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Instantly, Janice froze in shock, unable to comprehend what was going on. When she regained herself, she forcibly pushed Riddler away.

"What the _hell _do you think you're _doing_?" she demanded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I'll let you know when I have an answer." Riddler replied, pinching the ridge of his nose. "I just sort of _did_ and omitted the thinking part."

"But why would you even _consider_ doing that in the first place?" she asked. Riddler froze up.

"I..." He brushed his hair out of his eyes, thinking very carefully about what to say next. "I did it because you told me to prove that I care, and well...I thought that would prove how much I care." he explained. His exceptionally pale face had taken on a reddish hue, Janice following suit after she heard his explanation.

"So...what you're saying is...you kissed me because you..." She trailed off, clearly hesitant to finish her sentence.

"Because I...love you." he finished. There was a minute or so of awkward silence before Janice took a step towards him, an indescribable look on her face. For a moment, Riddler was afraid she was going to hit him.

Instead, she just grabbed his face and kissed him.


End file.
